Iris sat down on one of the hard-backed chairs.
"Look here, Di," she said, "I have no time now to talk things over with you. Of course, everything is altered, and our lives are completely changed. When mother was dying, when I last saw her, she told me that I must expect this. She said she knew that, when she went away to the angels, we four children would have to go out into the world and fight our battles. She said that everybody in the world has got a battle to fight, and even little children have to fight theirs. She said, too, that if we were brave and the kind of children she wants us to be, we would follow the names she gave us and conquer our enemies. Now, Di, you are called after Diana, the great Diana, who was supposed to be a sort of goddess. Do you think she would have given in? Don't you think she would have been brave?"
"Yes, course," said the little nineteenth-century Diana. "She would have shotted people down dead with her bow and arrows—I know kite well she was a bwave sort of a lady. All wight, Iris, I'll copy her if you wishes."
"Indeed I do wish, darling. I think it would be splendid of you."
"She was a very bwave lady," repeated Diana. "She had her bow and her arrows; she was a gweat huntwess, and she shotted people. I don't mind copying her one little bit."
Diana dried away her tears and looked fixedly at her sister.
"Then you really mean to be good and brave, Di?"
"Certain sure, Iris."
"And you won't call Aunt Jane any more names?"
"I won't call her names—names don't si'nify, names don't kill people."