e as the others when she unlocked the door of
the dead-house now, and they all entered. The dead 'uns were decently
laid out on a shelf, just in front of the public view. There was a
dead bee, and two butterflies; there were two dead worms and a dead
toad; also three or four beetles in different stages of decomposition,
and a terribly crushed spider--and solemnly lying in the midst of his
dead brethren lay Rub-a-Dub, the precious and dearly loved piebald
mouse.

"They look beautiful, poor darlin's," said Diana; "they will most fill
up the cemetery. Now please, Iris, which is to have a public funeral?"

"Of course Rub-a-Dub must," answered Iris. "As to the others--"

"Don't you think that poor toad, Iris?" said Diana, wrinkling up her
brows, and gazing anxiously at her sister. "The toad seems to me to be
rather big to have only a pwivate funeral. We could scarcely get dock
leaves enough."

"We must try," answered Iris; "the toad must be buried privately with
the others. We always make it a rule--don't you remember, Di--only to
give public funerals to our own special pets."

"All wight," answered Diana. She was very easily brought round to
accept Iris' view. In her heart of hearts she considered Iris' verdict
like the laws of the Medes and Persians--something which could not
possibly be disputed.

"Run, Orion!" she said; "be quick, and fetch as many dock leaves as
possible. I will thread a needle so as to sew up the poor dead 'uns in
their coffins. We must get through the pwivate funerals as quick as
possible this morning, and then we'll be weady for poor Rub-a-Dub."

"Rub-a-Dub is to be buried exactly at eleven o'clock," said Iris.

"We'll all wear mourning, course?" asked Diana.

"Yes; black bows."

"And are the dogs and the other animals to wear mourning?"

"Black bows," repeated Iris.

"That is most lovely and 'citing," said Diana.

Orion left the dead-house, and presently returned with a great pile of
dock leaves. Then the children sat down on the floor and began to sew
coffins for the different dead 'uns. They were accustomed to the work
and did it expeditiously and well. When all the poor dead 'uns were
supplied with coffins they were carried in a tray across the garden
to the far-famed cemetery. Here they were laid in that part of the
ground apportioned to private funerals. Apollo made small holes with
his spade, and each dead 'un in his small coffin was returned to
mother earth. The ground was imm