her name, and told her the
story which was associated with it. The eldest boy was called Apollo,
which also is a Greek name, and was supposed at one time to belong to
the most beautiful boy in the world. The next girl was called Diana,
and the youngest boy's name was Orion.

When this story opens, Iris was ten years old, Apollo nine, Diana six,
and little Orion five. They were like ordinary children in appearance,
being neither particularly handsome nor particularly the reverse; but
in their minds and ways, in their habits and tastes, they seemed to
have inherited a savor of those far-off beings after whom their mother
had called them. They were, in short, very unworldly children--that
does not mean that they were specially religious--but they did not
care for fine clothes, nor the ordinary amusements which ordinary
children delight in. They loved flowers with a love which was almost a
passion, and they also knew a great deal about the stars, and often
coaxed their mother to allow them to sit up late at night to watch the
different constellations; but above all these things they adored, with
a great adoration, the entire animal kingdom.

It so happened that the little Delaneys spent the greater part of
their time in a beautiful garden. I don't think, in all the course of
my wanderings, I ever saw a garden quite to compare to that in which
their early days were spent. Even in the winter they lived the greater
part of their time here, being hardy children and never catching cold.
The house was a fine and beautiful building, having belonged to their
family for several generations, but the children thought nothing at
all of that in comparison with the garden. Here, when possible, they
even had their lessons; here they played all their wonderful and
remarkable games; here they went through their brief sorrows, and
tasted their sweetest joys. But I must hasten to describe the garden
itself. In the first place, it was old-fashioned, having very high
brick walls covered all over with fruit trees. These fruit trees had
grown slowly, and were now in the perfection of their prime. Never
were such peaches to be seen, nor such apricots, nor such cherries, as
ripened slowly on the red brick walls of the old garden. Inside the
walls almost all well-known English flowers flourished in lavish
profusion. There was also fruit to be found here in quantities. Never
were such strawberries to be seen as could be gathered from those
great s