"Little Diana!" repeated Mrs. Dolman. "She is quite a monster, I can tell you—a monster of ingratitude, wickedness, and rudeness, and I don't see how we can keep her any longer with our own children."
"But I am afraid, my dear wife, we cannot get David Delaney back now; he must have reached the Himalayas by this time."
"Poor fellow!" said Mrs. Dolman, "I pity him for being the father of such a very bad little girl."
"I aren't bad," cried Diana. "If you say any more, naughty woman, I'll slap 'oo."
Mrs. Dolman thought it best to let Diana slide down on the floor.
The moment the little girl found her feet she rushed up to her Uncle Dolman.
"I like you, old man," she said; "you isn't half a bad sort. I'll stay with you. P'ease, Aunt Jane, punish me by letting me stay with Uncle William. I'll just sit on the floor curled up, and maybe I'll dwop as'eep, and have my nice dweams about the time when you is shotted, and I'm back again in the old garden with all my darlin', dear, sweet pets. I'll dweam, p'waps, that we is having funerals in the garden and we is awfu' happy, and you is shotted down dead. Let me stay with Uncle William, Aunt Jane."
"Now, you see what kind of child she is, William," said Mrs. Dolman. "You have heard her with your own ears—she absolutely threatens me. Oh, I cannot name what she says; it is so shocking. I never came across such a terribly bad little girl. William, I must insist here and now on your chastising her."
"In what way?" said Mr. Dolman. "I am very busy, my dear Jane, over my sermon. Could it not be postponed, or could not you, my dear?"
"No, William, I could not, for the dark room is not bad enough for this naughty little girl. She must be whipped, and you must do it. Fetch the birch rod."