It was a hot day, and the window was wide open; a green blind was down to keep out the glare of the sun; there was a quantity of ice in a great pail in one corner of the room, and, as Iris softly entered, Fortune was in the act of putting a fresh cold cloth on the sick child's forehead.
Little Diana was murmuring her ceaseless refrain:
"You'll never know fear,
Any more, little dear.
Good-by."
"Why, Diana!" said Iris.
Iris's voice was quite fresh. It had a different note in it from all the voices which for weeks had sounded in little Diana's ears. She was lying in a partial stupor, but now she opened her eyes very wide.
"Iris," she said; "Iris." And a smile broke all over her face.
Iris ran up to the bedside. She was always quiet in her manner; great excitement only accentuated her quiet. She knelt down at once by the sick child, and took both her hot hands in hers.
"Darling," she said, "I am your little mother, and I have come back to you."
"That's beautiful," answered Diana. She uttered a very deep sigh. She had been tossing restlessly about, but now her hot hands lay quiet in Iris'.
As to Fortune, she was so amazed that she did not utter a word.