strawberries, and Iris divided them into four portions. Diana and
Orion, seated on their little chairs, ate theirs with much gusto, and
just as happily as if mother had not gone away; but as to Iris,
notwithstanding her brave words and her determination not to think of
herself, the strawberries tasted like wood in her mouth. There was
also a great lump in her throat, and a feeling of depression was
making itself felt more and more, moment by moment.

Apollo sat down beside his sister, and glanced from time to time into
her face.

"I cannot think why I don't _really_ care for the strawberries
to-day," he said suddenly. "I--" His lips trembled. "Iris," he said,
gazing harder than ever at his sister, "you have got such a queer look
on your face.

"Don't notice it, please, Apollo," answered Iris.

"I wish you would cry," said the boy. "When Fortune came in and told
us the--the dreadful news, we all cried and we kissed her, and she
cried and she said she was sorry she had ever been unkind to us; but I
remember, Iris, you did not shed one tear, and you--you always seemed
to love mother the best of us all."

"And I love her still the best," said Iris, in a soft voice; "but,
Apollo, I have something else to do." And then she added, lowering her
tones, "You know, I can't be sorry about mother herself. I can only be
glad about her."

"Glad about mother! Glad that she is dead!" said the boy.