open, the pretty room looked just as usual, but mother's sofa was
vacant. Iris went straight over to one of the open windows, knelt
down, and put her little elbows on the ledge.

"Yes, mother," she said, speaking aloud and looking full up at the
bright blue sky, "I promise you. I promised you yesterday, but I make
a fresh, very, _very_ solemn promise to-day. Yes, I will be a mother
to the others; I will try never to think of myself; I will remember,
mother darling, exactly what you want me to do. I will try to be
beautiful, to be a little messenger of the gods, as you sometimes said
I might be, and to be like the rainbow, full of hope. And I will try
to help Apollo to be the most beautiful and the bravest boy in the
world; and, mother, I will do my best to help Diana to be strong and
bright and full of courage; and I will do what I can for Orion--he
must be grand like a giant, so that he may live up to the wonderful
name you have given him. Mother, it will be very hard, but I promise,
I promise with all my might, to do everything you want me to do. I
will act just as if you were there and could see, mother, and I will
_always_ remember that it is beautiful for you to have gone away, for
while you were here you had so much pain and so much illness. I won't
fret, mother; no, I won't fret--I promise to be a mother to the
others, and there won't be any time to fret."

No tears came to Iris' bright eyes, but her little thin face grew
paler and paler. Presently she left the window and went slowly
downstairs again.

Fortune had now left the other children to themselves. They were
scattered about the bright day nursery, looking miserable, though they
could scarcely tell why.