She tried to push the rod out of Mr. Dolman’s hand.

“Really, Jane, she is only five years old, and—­and a poor little orphan, you know.”

“Yes,” said Diana eagerly, “I’s a poor orphan, only a baby, five years old, awfu’ young, and I’s sossy, and it’s all wight now.  Go ’way, Aunt Jane; go ’way, naughty Aunt Jane; I’s sossy.”

“William,” said Mrs. Dolman, “if you refuse to give that child the necessary punishment which is to make her a Christian character, I shall simply wash my hands of her.  Now, then, miss, get on my lap.  William, do your duty.”

Poor Mr. Dolman, pale to the very lips, was forced to comply.  Down went the rod on the fat little form—­shriek after shriek uttered Diana.  At last, more from terror than pain, she lay quiet on Mrs. Dolman’s knee.  The moment she did so, Mr. Dolman threw the rod on the floor.

“It’s a horrid business,” he said.  “I hate corporal punishment.  We have hurt the child.  Here, give her to me.”

“Nonsense, William!  She is only pretending.”

But this was not the case.  The fright, joined to the state of excitement and heat which she had been previously in, proved too much for the defiant little spirit, and Diana had really fainted.

Mrs. Dolman was frightened now, and rushed for cold water.  She bathed the child’s forehead, and soon had the satisfaction of seeing her coming to again.

There was not a word of defiance from Diana now, and not a single utterance of reproach, but when she looked at Mrs. Dolman there was an expression in her black eyes from which this lady absolutely recoiled.

“Uncle William, I’s hurted awfu’,” whispered Diana.  “Let me lie in your arms, p’ease, Uncle William.”

And so she did for the rest of the morning, and the sermon never got written.

CHAPTER XIV.

DIANA’S REVENGE.

Diana had quite a nice time for the rest of the morning.  Uncle William had not the least idea of sending her back to the schoolroom.

“It’s very hot,” he said, “and I feel sleepy.  I dare say you do also.”

“I do awfu’,” answered Diana.  “You isn’t a bad old man, not at all,” she continued.  Here she raised her fat hand and stroked his flabby cheek.  “You hates writing sermons, don’t you?”

“Diana,” he answered, “I would rather you did not speak about it.”

“Oh, I can keep secrets,” replied Diana.

“Well, in that case, to be quite frank with you, I do not care for writing sermons.”

“And I don’t care for learning lessons.  You didn’t mean to sting me so bad with that howid wod, did you, Uncle William?”

Mr. Dolman made no reply with his lips, for he did not like to defy his wife’s authority, but Diana read his thoughts in his rather dull blue eyes.

“You is a kind old man,” she said; “that is, when you isn’t tempted by that naughty, howid woman.  You is a kind old man by yourself, and you shan’t be shotted.”