he came to this conclusion with a sigh, and then, hearing the stable
clock strike five, remembered that it was post time. Perhaps there
would be a letter from home. At any rate she would run down to the
lodge and meet the postman. It was such a cheering thought that she
felt almost happy again, and ran along whistling and swinging her
straw-hat in her hand. The drive was long and very winding, so that she
did not at first perceive that there was someone in front of her who
seemed to be bound on the same errand; when she did so, however, she had
no difficulty in recognising the figure, which had a lop-sided movement
like a bird with one wing. It was Miss Munnion. She was evidently in
great haste, and walking, or rather running faster than Iris had ever
seen her--so fast, indeed, that she was soon hidden in a sudden turn of
the road, and was next visible coming back with the letters in her hand.
Walking slowly now, she was reading an open one, and stopped now and
then to study it more attentively. Iris ran up to her with the eager
question, "Is there one for me?" on her lips; but when she saw Miss
Munnion's face she checked herself. For the frozen little countenance
had thawed, the features worked and twisted about strangely, and the
dull eyes were full of tears.

"What's the matter?" said Iris bluntly. Miss Munnion looked up; she was
completely altered in voice and manner; her hands trembled, her little
lace head-dress was crooked; she was evidently deeply troubled.

"It's my sister Diana," she said--"my only sister. She is dangerously
ill. She's been asking for me."

"Where is she?" asked Iris.

"Oh, that's the worst of it!" cried Miss Munnion. "It's all the way to
Sunderland, right up in the north. Oh, what shall I do?"

"Of course you must go to her," said Iris, with the confidence of youth.

"But," said poor Miss Munnion, looking at the child without a spark of
hope in her eyes, but a great longing for help and advice, "there's Mrs
Fotheringham. She'll disapprove, she so dislikes being worried. When I
came she told me she hoped I had no relations to unsettle me. And I
haven't. I haven't a soul in the world that cares for me except Diana.
And she was always so strong. How could I tell she would fall ill?"

"Perhaps you wouldn't be gone long," suggested Iris, "and I could read
to godmother."

"I'm so afraid," said Miss Munnion, wiping her eyes meekly, "that Mrs
Fotheringham will dismiss me if