She found herself unexpectedly on the threshold of the day-nursery.  It was a beautiful room, facing due west; the last rays of the evening sun were shining in at the open windows; some children were collected in a corner of the room.  Diana had gone on her knees beside a girl a little older and slighter than herself.  Her plump elbows were resting on the girl’s knee, her round hands were pressed to her rounder cheeks, and her black eyes were fixed upon the girl’s face.

The elder girl, very quiet and calm, had one hand on Diana’s shoulder, her other arm was thrown round a handsome little boy, not unlike Diana in appearance, while an older boy sat on a hassock at her feet.

“I will listen to you presently, Diana,” said Iris.  “Now, I must finish my story.”

“Yes, please go on, Iris,” said Orion; “it’s all about me, and I’m ’mensely inte’sted.”

“Very well, Orion.  The King of Chios did not want his daughter to marry you.”

“Good gracious!” muttered Mrs. Dolman in the doorway.

“So he let you fall sound asleep,” continued Iris, in her calm voice.  None of the children had yet seen the stout personage on the threshold of the room.  “He let you fall very sound asleep, having given you some strong wine.”

“What next?” thought Mrs. Dolman.

“And when you were very sound asleep indeed, he put out both your eyes.  When you awoke you found yourself quite blind, and did not know what to do or where to go.  Suddenly, in the midst of your misery, you heard the sound of a blacksmith’s forge.  Guided by the noise, you reached the place and begged the blacksmith to climb on your shoulders, and so lend you his eyes to guide you.  The blacksmith was willing to do it, and seated himself on your shoulders.  Then you said, ’Guide me to the place where I can see the first sunbeam that rises in the east over the sea,’ and—­”

“Yes,” said Orion, whose breath was coming quickly, “yes; and what happened to me then?”

“Nonsense, little boy!  Don’t you listen to another word of that folly,” said a very strong, determined voice.

All the children turned abruptly.

“Oh, she has come bothering!” said Diana.

But the other three had started to their feet, and a flush rose into Iris’ pale face.

CHAPTER V.

AUNT IS HER NAME.

“Aunt is her name,” said Diana, “and I don’t think much of her.”

Mrs. Dolman strode rapidly into the nursery.

“Yes, children,” she said, “I am your aunt—­your Aunt Jane Dolman, your father’s only sister.  Circumstances prevented my coming to see your father and mother for several years; but now that God has seen fit to give you this terrible affliction, and has taken your dear mother to Himself, I have arrived, determined to act a mother’s part to you.  I do not take the least notice of what that rude little girl says.  When I have had her for a short time under my own control, she will know better.  Now, one of you children, please have the politeness to offer me a chair, and then you can come up one by one and kiss me.”