stout woman dressed in black.

"Now, who is this little girl, I wonder?" said a high-pitched, cheery
voice.

"It is not your little girl; and I am in a hurry, please," said Diana,
who could be very rude when she liked. She did not wish to be
interrupted now; she wanted to find Iris to tell her of the sad fate
of Rub-a-Dub.

"Highty-tighty!" exclaimed the little lady, "that is no way to speak
to grown-up people. I expect, too, you are one of my little nieces.
Come here at once and say, 'How do you do?'"

"Are you the aunt?" asked Diana solemnly.

"The aunt!" replied Mrs. Dolman. "I am your aunt, my dear. What is
your name?"

"Diana. Please, aunt, don't clutch hold of my hand; I want to find
Iris."

"Of all the ridiculous names," muttered Mrs. Dolman under her breath.
"Well, child, I am inclined to keep you for a moment, as I want to
talk to you. Do you know, you rude little girl, that I have come a
long way to see you. Of course, my little girl, I know you are sad at
present; but you must try to get over your great sorrow."

"Do you know, then, about Rub-a-Dub?" said Diana, her whole face
changing, and a look of keen interest coming into it.