FIFTH WONDER
THE MAUSOLEUM OF ARTEMISIA
It was fortunate that Diana lived so near. Her father’s house was in fact scarcely five minutes’ walk from Aunt Hester, and the two little girls whose acquaintance had begun so wonderfully began to see a great deal of one another.
They had, as you may imagine, much to talk about, and, when they met, the conversation always turned upon the amazing adventure they had lately shared.
“Oh, Rachel, did you notice the tiny little girl with the red hair who walked next to Dinocrates in the glade—when they put the poppies on the altar?” or, “Do you remember the lovely dress the priestess had? The one who carried the silver dish in the temple?”
Questions and exclamations such as these flew between Rachel and Diana, each one reminding the other of something she had noticed particularly, in the magic scenes beheld from the schoolroom window.
They were, of course, very careful to keep their talks strictly private ones, and Aunt Hester sometimes wondered why such quiet reigned when they were alone together. She was however, very glad that Rachel had found a companion, for she had been rather anxious about having her little niece to stay with her for so long a time as seven weeks. “You see, I haven’t had anything to do with children for years, and I was afraid she would be very dull here,” she told her friends, “but old Mr. Sheston, who seems to have taken a great fancy to the child, has been a godsend, and now that there’s this little Diana as well, I feel I need not trouble about Rachel any longer. I can’t imagine how the old man manages to interest children so much in the British Museum,” she often added. “When I was her age, though, of course, I don’t tell Rachel so, there was nothing I hated more than to be taken to a dull place like a museum. But these two, Rachel and Diana, are always clamouring to go. It’s very strange.”
It was. And even stranger than Aunt Hester thought, as Rachel and Diana could have told her. But of all that made the Museum literally a place of enchantment to the children, she naturally had no idea, nor did she know that without “Sheshà” and his magic, they would probably have been as little pleased with museums as she herself at their age.
It was a wet afternoon, and Diana, who had come round to tea with Rachel, sat perched on the corner of the table, her usual seat, while every now and then she cast a quick glance at the door.