go another step, so great was their fatigue, they came out on an open clearing in the wood, in the center of which a great big tent was pitched.  Several smaller tents were also to be seen in the neighborhood of the big one, and a lot of children, very brown and ugly, and only half-dressed, were lying about on the grass, squabbling and rolling over one another.  Some dogs also were with the children, and an old woman, a good deal browner than Mother Rodesia, was sitting at the door of the big tent.

As soon as ever the children saw the little strangers, they scrambled to their feet with a cry, and instantly surrounded Mother Rodesia and Orion and Diana.

“Back, all of you, you little rascallions,” said Mother Rodesia; “back, or I’ll cuff you.  Where’s Mother Bridget?  I want to speak to her?”

When Mother Rodesia said this the old woman at the door of the principal tent rose slowly and came to meet them.

“Well, Rodesia,” she said, “and so you has found these little strangers in the wood?  What purty little dears!”

“Yes, I have found them,” said Mother Rodesia, “and I have brought them home to supper.  After supper we are to send them home.  They hail from the Rectory.  Is Jack anywhere about?”

“I saw him not half an hour back,” said the old woman; “he had just brought in a fat hare, and I popped it into the pot for supper.  You can smell it from here, little master,” she said, stooping suddenly down and letting her brown, wrinkled, aged face come within an inch or two of Orion’s.  He started back, frightened.  He had never seen anyone so old nor so ugly before.  Even the thought of the strawberries and cream, and the milk and cake, could not compensate for the look on Mother Bridget’s face.

Diana, however, was not easily alarmed.

“The stuff in the pot smells vedy good,” she said, sniffing.  “I could shoot lots of hares, ’cos I is the gweatest huntwess in all the world.  I is Diana.  Did you ever hear of Diana, ugly old woman?”

“You had best not call Mother Bridget names,” said Mother Rodesia, giving Diana a violent shake as she spoke.

But the little girl leaped lightly away from her.

“I always call peoples just what I think them,” she said; “I wouldn’t be the gweat Diana if I didn’t.  I has not got one scwap of fear in me, so you needn’t think to come wound me that way.  I do think she is awfu’ ugly.  She’s uglier than Aunt Jane, what I used to think was the ugliest person in the world.  You had best not twy to fwighten me, for it can’t be done.”

“What a spirited little missy it is!” said Mother Bridget, gazing with admiration at Diana.  “Why, now, she is a fine little child.  I’m sure, dearie, I don’t mind whether you call me ugly or not; it don’t matter the least bit in the world to me.  And how old may you be, my little love?”

“I is five,” answered Diana.  “I’s a well-grown girl, isn’t I?”