Orion and Miss Ramsay left the room, and the other children stared at one another.  The three Dolman girls sat down to their books.  Philip and Conrad thought it best to follow their example.  Iris and Apollo looked wistfully from one to the other, but did not dare to speak; but Diana, walking boldly over to the nearest window, amused herself by touching each fly in turn with the tip of her small fat finger.

“They don’t like it, poor darlin’s,” she said to herself, “but I don’t mean to hurt ’em.  I wonder now if I could get away to the wood and get hold of my bow and arrow.  Miss Wamsay must be shotted as well as the others.  It’s awful what I has got to do.”

Apollo sank dejectedly down before the account of the Spanish Armada, and Iris, with tears slowly rising to her eyes, turned over her lesson books.  At last the impulse to do something was more than she could stand, and, rising from her seat, she edged her way to the door.  Mary called after her in French to know what she was going to do, but Iris would make no reply.  She reached the door, opened it, and then ran as fast as she could to the nursery.

There she found Simpson putting Orion to bed.  The little boy was crying bitterly.

“As soon as ever you lie down, master, you have got to drink off this medicine,” said Simpson.

“I won’t touch it—­horrid stuff!” said Orion.

“But you must, sir.  I’ll allow no ‘won’ts’ in my nursery.  Little boys have got to do what they are told.  If you make any fuss I’ll just hold your nose and then you’ll be obliged to open your mouth, and down the medicine will go.  Come, come, sir, none of those tears.  You have been a very naughty little boy, and the pain is sent you as a punishment.”

“Oh, there you are, Iris!” said Orion.  “Oh, Iris!  I am so glad.  Please be a mother to me—­please put your arms round me—­please kiss me, Iris.”

Iris flew to the little fellow, clasped him in her arms, and held his hot little forehead against her cheek.

“Simpson,” she said, turning to the nurse, “I know quite well how to manage him.  Won’t you let me do it?”

“I am sure, Miss Iris, I’d be only too thankful,” said the perplexed woman.  “There’s Miss Ramsay and my mistress in no end of a state, and Master Orion as obstinate as a boy can be.  There’s something gone wrong in this house since you four children arrived, and I really don’t know how I am to stand it much longer.  Not that I have any special fault to find with you, Miss Iris, nor, indeed, for that matter, with Master Apollo; but it’s the two younger ones.  They are handfuls, and no mistake.”

“I like being a handfu’ ’cept when I’m sick,” said Orion.  “I don’t want to be a handfu’ to-day.  Please, Iris, don’t mek me take that horrid medicine.”

“He must take it, Miss Iris; he won’t be better till he do,” said the nurse, lifting up the glass as she spoke and stirring the contents with a spoon.  “Come, now, sir, be a brave boy.  Just open your mouth and get it down.  Then you’ll drop asleep, and when you wake you will probably be quite well.”