"I think so, my dear little girl. I really think that can be managed. It is too hot to work—at least, I find it so."
"Then course I does also," answered Diana, clapping her hands. "Shall we go out into the garding—what you say?"
"Would you like to?" he asked.
"Yes, more particular in fruit garding. We can eat cherries and strawberries, and pelt each other. What you say?"
Mr. Dolman looked out of the open window. He was pretty certain that his wife by this time was absent in the village. The clock on the mantelpiece pointed to half-past eleven; the early dinner would not be ready until one o'clock. It would be cool and pleasant in the fruit garden, and it would please poor little Diana, who, in his opinion, had been very harshly treated.
"All right," he answered, "but, you know, your aunt is not to be told."
He rose from his chair as he spoke, and, stretching out his long hand, allowed Diana to curl her fingers round one of his.
"I should wather think Aunt Jane isn't to know," replied Diana, beginning to skip in her rapture. "I don't like aunts; I always said so. I like uncles; they isn't half bad. You isn't bad, for an old man. You is awfu' old, isn't you?"
"Not so very old, Diana. I'm not forty yet."
"Forty! What a ter'ble age!" said Diana. "You must 'member all the kings and queens of England; don't you, Uncle William?"