"Where is I?" she said with a gasp.
"With me, my little dear; you are as safe as child can be," said Mother Rodesia. "Don't you stir, my love; you are just as good as you was in your little bed. See, let me lay this rug over you."
She threw a piece of heavy tarpaulin, lined with cloth, over the child as she spoke.
Diana yawned in a comfortable manner.
"Isn't we at Wectory yet?" she asked.
"No, dear; the pony went lame, and we had to stop for a good bit on the road; but if you like to go to sleep again, you'll be there when next you wake."
"I isn't s'eepy any longer," said Diana, sitting bolt upright in the cart. "Oh, what a funny dwess I has on. Where is my nice b'ack dwess, and my pinafore, and my shoes and socks?"
"Well, dear," said Mother Rodesia, "you were so dead asleep, and the pony got that lame we couldn't stir hand nor foot, so I thought it best to put a little nightdress on you."
"But what a funny one," said Diana, gazing with curious admiration at the stout, sack-like garment.
"It's the best poor Mother Rodesia has, my dear. I'm awful poor, you know."