little further distance by the gardener. Over her cap she wore a
comfortable white woollen hood, and in her hand she carried a stumpy
blue umbrella; every now and then she stopped, and pointed out some
special favourite with this, or shook it scornfully at something
inferior, and in these criticisms Miss Munnion agreed with nods and
shakes of the head. A fourth member of the party was the parrot, who,
in his brilliant attire of emerald green, touched with glimpses of rose
colour, matched the finest tulip there. Taking his pleasure after his
own manner, he waddled along the turf border, turning in his crooked
toes, and screwing his head sideways at intervals to look at the sky.
Sometimes he stopped to tweak some tender stalk with his hooked beak,
and sometimes he took a sudden and vicious little run at a sparrow or
some other bird at a distance; when it flew away he flapped his wings
and gave an exulting squawk.

Mrs Fotheringham came to a stand-still as Iris advanced, planted the
blue umbrella firmly on the ground, and surveyed her gravely from top to
toe. The old lady, with her high-bridged nose, was certainly a little
like the parrot in the face, and though her eye had not the changing
brilliancy of the bird's, it was quite its equal in the unblinking
fixity of its gaze.

"Well, child," she said, when Iris was close to her, "you must have your
frocks lengthened. You look positively gawky. Shake hands with Miss
Munnion. Ah, mind the parrot! Moore!" raising her voice to call to the
gardener, "is it possible I see that odious pink and white stripe
amongst the tulips again?--you know I hate it. The most mawkish,
foolish thing! It offends the eye. See that it is rooted up without
delay. Miss Munnion, we will now go indoors, and you'll perhaps be kind
enough to show this young lady her room, and tell her when we dine and
so forth. I forget your name," (turning sharply to Iris). "Something
tiresome and fantastical, I know. Ah! Iris. Well, Iris, when you want
to know anything, or do anything, or go anywhere, you are to ask Miss
Munnion. _Never_ come to me with questions, or ask me `why.' Miss
Munnion doesn't mind being asked `why.' You are here, you know, with a
distinct understanding that you are not to be troublesome, and that you
are to amuse yourself. As long as you do that, I daresay we shall get
on very well, and I don't care how long you stay; but I'm not used to
children, and, of course, if I fin