s during school hours, but when
there was a holiday she was as lax as she was particular on other
occasions. This afternoon she took a novel out of her pocket, seated
herself with her back to a great overspreading elm tree, and prepared
to enjoy herself.

Lucy, Mary, and Ann surrounded Iris; Apollo marched away by himself,
and Philip and Conrad mysteriously disappeared with little Orion.
Diana thus found herself alone. For a time she was contented to lie
stretched out flat on the grass playing soldiers, and watching the
tricks of a snow-white rabbit who ran in and out of his hole close by.
Presently, however, she grew tired of this solitary entertainment, and
sprang to her feet, looking eagerly around her.

"Punishment is a very good thing," she said to herself. "I's punished,
and I's lot better. It's now Aunt Jane's turn to be punished, and it's
Simpson's turn to be punished--it'll do them heaps of good. First time
I's only going to punish 'em, I isn't going to kill 'em down dead,
but I's going to pwick 'em. I is Diana, and mother said I was to live
just like the gweat Diana what lived long, long, _long_ ago."

Diana began to trot eagerly up and down under the shade of the tall
forest trees. She looked about her to right and left, and presently
was fortunate enough to secure a pliant bough of a tree which was
lying on the ground. Having discovered this treasure, she sat down
contentedly and began to pull off the leaves and to strip the bark.
When she had got the long, supple bough quite bare, she whipped some
string out of her pocket, and converted it into the semblance of a
bow. It was certainly by no means a perfect bow, but it was a bow
after a fashion.

The bow being made, the arrow must now be secured. Diana could not
possibly manage an arrow without a knife, and she was not allowed to
keep a knife of her own. Both bow and arrow must be a secret, for if
anyone saw her with them it might enter into the head of that person
not to consider it quite proper for her to punish Aunt Jane.

"And Aunt Jane must be punished," muttered Diana. "I must make an
arrow, and I must pwick her with it. My bow is weally beautiful--it is
a little crooked, but what do that matter? I could shoot my arrow now
and pwick the twees, if only I could get one made. Oh, here's a
darlin' little stick--it would make a lovely arrow, if I had a knife
to sharpen the point with. Now, I do wonder what sort of a woman that
Miss Wamsay is."

Dian