"Please, Miss Stevenson, don't pity us," said Iris.
Miss Stevenson started.
"My dear Iris," she said, "you don't realize what it means."
"I do," answered Iris stoutly.
"And I know what Iris means," said Apollo; "I know quite well. I feel miserable; I have got a pain in my throat, and I cannot eat my strawberries; but Iris says we ought not fret, for mother is much better off."
"Then, if mother is much better off, we ought to have a holiday, same as if it was a birthday; ought we not, Miss Stevenson?" said Diana, puckering up her face and looking, with her keen black eyes, full at her governess.
"You poor little innocents, what is to become of you all?" said Miss Stevenson.
She entered the summer-house as she spoke, sank down on the nearest chair, and burst into tears. The four children surrounded her. They none of them felt inclined to cry at that moment. Orion, after staring at her for some little time, gave her a sharp little tap on her arm.
"What are you crying about?" he said. "Don't you think you are rather stupid?"
"You poor innocents!" said Miss Stevenson.