ently, never clattering the
dishes, and this absence of noise was in itself a strange thing to Iris,
for she was used to associate food with much rattle of knives and forks
and clash of crockery. There were many nice things to eat and pretty
things to look at, but it was rather awful, too, to sit in almost
perfect silence and listen to the remarks of Mrs Fotheringham and Miss
Munnion. Opposite to Iris there was a long low window, through which
she could see part of the lawn and a path leading to the kitchen-garden.
She sat gazing vacantly out upon this, when suddenly she saw something
very interesting.

This was a man, who came rushing along the path in the most frantic
hurry, beating and dashing about him with his hat, and shaking his head
incessantly. He was either pursued by some unseen and terrible enemy,
or else he was crazy. Whichever it was, it was so exciting to Iris that
she craned her neck to follow his movements as far as she could, and
presently, moved by his increasing agitation, she exclaimed aloud:

"What _can_ be the matter with him?"

Her godmother's keen eye followed her glance to where the unfortunate
man was still dodging about as though to escape something, and striking
madly out into the air. She smiled contemptuously.

"It's that idiotic Moore," she said. "He irritates the bees, and I
don't wonder. I'm sure he irritates me."

"He'll be stung," exclaimed Iris, getting up from her chair eagerly;
"he'll certainly be stung!"

"Yes," said Miss Munnion, laying down her knife and fork, and looking
mildly round at Moore's struggles, "I'm really afraid he will."

"Very likely," remarked Mrs Fotheringham composedly; "he often is.
I've always noticed," she continued, with a pointed glance at her
companion, "that bees, as well as birds and beasts, are quite aware when
anyone's frightened of them. Moore's a complete coward, and they know
it. They never touch me."

The parrot and Mrs Fotheringham had already discovered that Miss
Munnion was nervous. She was afraid of all animals, but specially of
parrots.

"Once," continued the old lady, "you show fear to man, woman, or child,
you are their bond-slave for ever. And it's the same with the lower
animals."

Miss Munnion said that she had often observed it, and that it was very
true.

The following morning Iris woke up to remember that her holiday had
really begun, and that there was a whole long day before her with no
duties in it--nothin