"But I must go," said Orion. "Poor Rub-a-Dub must be buried, and I must have a box for his coffin and cotton wool to lay him in."
"See here, Orion," said the father; "where do you get the cotton wool?"
"We gen'ly get it from Fortune's box in the night-nursery," replied Orion.
"Oh, yes; she would make such a fuss if we asked her for some. We always steal it for public funerals."
"Well, on this occasion, and to spare your aunt's feelings, tell Fortune that I desire her to give you some.
"Now, Jane," continued Mr. Delaney, "as you are here, and as I am here, we may both of us as well witness this ceremony. The children are fond of doing all honor to their pets, even after the supreme moment of dissolution. Shall we witness this public funeral?"
Mrs. Dolman looked wonderfully inclined to say "No," but as her object now was to humor her brother as far as possible, she agreed very unwillingly to wait.
Accordingly he and she began to pace up and down the lovely garden, and soon, in the interest which the sight of the unforgotten playground of her youth excited within her, her brow cleared, and she became pleasant and even talkative. The two were in the midst of a very interesting conversation, and were pacing up and down not far from the summer-house, when Orion's clear voice was heard. "The public funeral is going to begin," he shouted, "so you had best come along if you want to see it. If you don't, Diana and me, and Apollo and Iris—why, we don't care."
"Oh, we'll come, you rude little body," said his father, laughing and chuckling as he spoke. "You mark my words, Jane," he continued, "you will have a handful with those children."