A Little Mother to the Others | Page 3

let us think what kind of funeral we will give it."
"Why not into the dead-house at once?" queried Diana.
"No; the arbor will do for the present."
Iris quickened her footsteps and walked down the straight path through
the midst of the Scotch roses. Having reached the pretty little
summer-house, she seated herself on her rustic chair and waited until
Diana arrived with the poor innocent. This was a somewhat unsightly
object, being nothing more nor less than a dead earthworm which had
been found on the walk, and which Diana respected, as she did all live
creatures, great or small.
"Put it down there," said Iris; "we can have a funeral when the sun is
not quite so hot."
"I suppose it will have a private funeral," said Apollo, who came into
the summer-house at that moment. "It is nothing but a poor innocent,
and not worth a great deal of trouble; and I do hope, Iris," he added
eagerly, "that you will not expect me to be present, for I have got some
most important chemical experiments which I am anxious to go on with.

I quite hope to succeed with my thermometer to-day, and, after all, as it
is only a worm----"
Iris looked up at him with very solemn eyes.
"Only a worm," she repeated. "Is that its fault, poor thing?" Apollo
seemed to feel the indignant glance of Iris' brown eyes. He sat down
submissively on his own chair. Orion and Diana dropped on their knees
by Iris' side. "I think," said Iris slowly, "that we will give this poor
innocent a simple funeral. The coffin must be made of dock leaves,
and----"
Here she was suddenly interrupted--a shadow fell across the entrance
door of the pretty summer-house. An elderly woman, with a thin face
and lank, figure, looked in.
"Miss Iris," she said, "Mrs. Delaney is awake and would be glad to see
you."
"Mother!" cried Iris eagerly. She turned at once to her sister and
brothers. "The innocent must wait," she said. "Put it in the dead-house
with the other creatures. I will attend to the funeral in the evening or
to-morrow. Don't keep me now, children."
"But I thought you had just come from mother," said Apollo.
"No. When I went to her she was asleep. Don't keep me, please." The
woman who had brought the message had already disappeared down
the long straight walk. Iris took to her heels and ran after her.
"Fortune," she said, looking into her face, "is mother any better?"
"As to that, Miss Iris, it is more than I can tell you. Please don't hold on
to my hand, miss. In hot weather I hate children to cling to me."
Iris said nothing more, but she withdrew a little from Fortune's side.
Fortune hurried her steps, and Iris kept time with her. When they
reached the house, the woman stopped and looked intently at the child.

"You can go straight upstairs at once, miss, and into the room," she said.
"You need not knock; my mistress is waiting for you."
"Don't you think, Fortune, that mother is just a little wee bit better?"
asked Iris again. There was an imploring note in her question this time.
"She will tell you herself, my dear. Now, be quick; don't keep her
waiting. It is bad for people, when they are ill, to be kept waiting."
"I won't keep her; I'll go to her this very instant," said Iris.
The old house was as beautiful as the garden to which it belonged. It
had been built, a great part of it, centuries ago, and had, like many other
houses of its date, been added to from time to time. Queerly shaped
rooms jutted out in many quarters; odd stairs climbed up in several
directions; towers and turrets were added to the roof; passages, some
narrow, some broad, connected the new buildings with the old. The
whole made an incongruous and yet beautiful effect, the new rooms
possessing the advantages and comforts which modern builders put into
their houses, and the older part of the house the quaint devices and
thick, wainscoted walls and deep, mullioned windows of the times
which are gone by.
Iris ran quickly through the wide entrance hall and up the broad, white,
stone stairs. These stairs were a special feature of Delaney Manor. They
had been brought all the way from Italy by a Delaney nearly a hundred
years ago, and were made of pure marble, and were very lovely to look
at. When Iris reached the first landing, she turned aside from the
spacious modern apartments and, opening a green baize door, ran down
a narrow passage. At the end of the passage she turned to the left and
went down another passage, and then