s a different thing indeed from the careful
washing, hair-brushing, and attiring in snow-white nightgowns that was
called "undressing" "at home." All that Diana could manage in the way of
washing apparatus was a rough wooden tub with cold water, a bit of
coarse soap, and an old rag by way of a towel! And even this she had
done more to please the children than because she saw any need for it.
This evening she made no pretence of anything after taking off the
children's outer clothes--Duke's nankin suit, now sadly soiled and
dilapidated, and the old red flannel skirt and little shawl which had
replaced Pamela's white frock. The frock was still in existence; but by
Mick's orders Diana had trimmed it up gaudily for the child to make her
appearance in to the Signor; so the little girl's attire was certainly
very gipsy-like.

"Shall I have to go home to Grandmamma with this nugly old petticoat and
no frock?" she asked, when Diana had taken off all her clothes down to
her little flannel vest, and wrapped her up for the night in a clean,
though old, cotton bedgown of her own. "And why have you taken off my
chemise, Diana? I've kept it on other nights."

"I'm going to wash it," said Diana. "I'd like to send you back as decent
as I _can_."

Pamela seemed satisfied. Then she and Duke knelt together at the side of
the shake-down Diana called their bed, and said their prayers together
and aloud. The gipsy girl had heard them before--several times--but this
evening she listened with peculiar attention, and when at the end the
little creatures, after praying for dear Grandpapa and Grandmamma, and
that God would please soon take them safe home again, went on to add a
special petition for "dear Diana," who had been so kind to them, that
she might be always good and happy, and that Mick and nobody should be
unkind to her, the girl turned away her face to hide the tears which
slowly welled up into her eyes.

"Good-night, dear Diana," said the two little voices, as she stooped to
kiss them.

"Good-night, master and missy. Sleep well, and don't be frightened if
you're wakened up. I'll be here." Then, as she was turning away, she
hesitated. "Do you really think now," she said, "that it's any good
praying for a wild gipsy girl like me?"

"Of course it is," said Pamela, starting up again. "Why shouldn't it be
as much good for you as for any one? If you want to be good--and I think
you are good, Diana--you can't help praying to God. For