"Now, then," said Iris, when they had reached the garden, "we must begin by feeding all the pets."
"There are an awful lot of them," said Diana, in quite a cheerful voice; "and don't you remember, Iris, the poor innocent was not buried yesterday?"
Iris could not help giving a little shiver.
"No more it was," she said, in a low tone. "It must have quite a private funeral. Please get some dock leaves, Apollo."
"Yes," answered Apollo.
He ran off, returning with a bunch in a moment or two.
"Take them into the dead-house," said Iris, "and sew them up and put the poor innocent inside, and then take your spade and dig a hole in the cemetery. We can't have a public funeral. I—I don't feel up to it," she added, her lips trembling for the first time.
Diana nestled close up to Iris.
"You need not look sad, Iris," she said; "there's no cause, is there? I don't believe that story 'bout mother, and if it is not true there'll be nothing wrong in my laughing, will there?"
"You may laugh if you like, darling," answered Iris.