child, and as the other children slept rather longer than
usual after their early waking, breakfast was in consequence full half
an hour late in the day-nursery that morning. At last, however, it was
finished. No special lessons had been attended to since mother had
gone away to the angels, and the children, snatching up their hats,
rushed off as fast as possible to the garden. When they got there they
all four breathed freely. This at least was their own domain--their
fairyland, their country of adventure. From here they could travel to
goodness only knew where--sometimes to the stars with bright Apollo
and brave Orion--sometimes to happy hunting fields with Diana, the
goddess of the chase, and sometimes they might even visit the rainbow,
with sweet Iris as their companion.
There never were happier children than these four in that lovely,
lovely beyond words, garden. When the children went into it, it seemed
as if an additional ray of sunshine had come out to fill all the happy
world with light and love and beauty. The bees hummed more
industriously than ever, the flowers opened their sweet eyes and gazed
at the children, the animals came round them in a group.
On this special morning, however, Diana's dear little face looked very
grave and full of business.
"It's most 'citing," she said. "'Fore we does anything else we must
'tend to the funerals--there is such a lot of dead 'uns to bury this
morning. Come 'long to the dead-house at once, Iris."
"I must smell the Scotch roses first," answered Iris.
"You can do that afterwards, can't you? There's poor Rub-a-Dub. We has
to 'cide whether he is to have a public or a pwivate funeral, or
whether he is just to be sewn up in dock leaves, and put into the
gwound p'omisc's."
Diana had a great facility for taking up long words, which she always
used in the most matter-of-fact style, not in the least caring how she
pronounced them.
The other children could not help laughing at her now, and the four
hurried off as fast as they possibly could to the dead-house.
This unpleasantly named abode was in reality a pretty little shed in
one corner of the old garden. It contained a door with lock and key, a
nice little window, and everything fitted up for the keeping of tools
and carpenters' implements. Long ago, however, the children decided
that here the dead animals of all sorts and species were to be kept
until the solemn moment of interment.
Iris looked just as grav
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