Orion speedily recovered from his bad fit of indigestion, and matters began to shake down a little in the schoolroom and nursery.  No one meant to be unkind to the little Delaneys; and although all things were changed for them, in some ways both Iris and Apollo were all the better for the strict and vigorous discipline they were now undergoing.  Iris really enjoyed her lessons, and when Apollo found that he had no chance of going to school, and of being with “fellows,” as he expressed it, until he had conquered certain difficult tasks which Miss Ramsay set him, he began, for his own sake, to apply himself to his lessons.  He was a bright, clever little chap, and when he tried to understand his governess’ method of teaching, he did his work fairly well.  But Diana and Orion were much too young for the somewhat severe transplantation which had taken place in their little lives.  Had Iris been allowed to be with them matters might not have grown quite so bad, but she was much occupied with her lessons, and the younger children spent the greater part of their time alone.

Philip and Conrad were afraid to make any further advances to Orion.  In consequence, he had no companion near his own age, except Diana, and Diana’s little heart, day by day, was growing fuller of insubordinate and angry feelings.  She was not at all by nature an unforgiving little child, but the want of petting and the severe life which she was obliged to lead began to tell on her high spirits.  She became defiant, and was always looking out for an opportunity to vent her wrath upon the people whom she termed her enemies.  Had Iris only had a chance of talking to the little girl, she would soon have got to the bottom of the matter, and things might not have turned out as they did; but Iris did not even sleep in the room with Diana, and in her sister’s presence the little girl made a valiant effort to appear as happy as usual.  As a matter of fact, however, she and Orion spent most of their playtime in perfecting their little scheme of revenge, and on a certain hot day matters came to a crisis.

It had been much more trying than usual in the schoolroom; the sun seemed to beat in with fiercer rays; there were more flies on the window-panes, and the air seemed more charged with that terrible sleepiness which poor little Diana could not quite conquer.  At last she dropped so sound asleep that Miss Ramsay took pity on her, and told her she might go and have a run in the garden.

“Go into the Filbert walk,” said the governess; “don’t on any account play where the sun is shining.  You may stay out for half an hour.  There is a clock just by the stables, which you can see when you come to the end of the walk; you will know then when the half-hour is out.  Run off now and enjoy yourself.”

Diana scarcely wasted any time in thanking Miss Ramsay.  She flew from the schoolroom as though she were herself a little arrow shot from a bow, she tumbled rather than walked downstairs, and with no hat over her thick, black curls, careered out wildly, shouting as she did so.  The prospect of the walk and the look of the sunshine were making the little girl very happy, and she might not have thought of any special revenge had not Mrs. Dolman at that moment caught sight of her.