I go, and I can't afford to lose the
situation--I really can't. And it's such an expensive journey to
Sunderland. And yet, there's Diana; she comes before everything, and it
cuts me to the heart to think of her asking for me."

Iris stood looking at her gravely. She felt very sorry, but also a
little contemptuous. Of course Diana ought to come before everything,
and yet Miss Munnion did not seem able to make up her mind to go to her.

"Well," she said, "you can't go to Sunderland and stay here too."

"Very true," murmured Miss Munnion. She did not mean anything by these
words, but they were so habitual that she could not help using them.

"Then you'd better come straight to my godmother and tell her," said
Iris, "if you _mean_ to go."

"Oh, of course I mean to go," said Miss Munnion reproachfully. "How
could I forsake Diana when she wants me?"

"Well, then, there's no use in thinking of anything else," said Iris.

It was an evident relief to Miss Munnion to be taken in hand firmly even
by a child. Years of dependence on the whims and fancies of others had
deprived her of what little decision and power of judgment she had
possessed. She could hardly call her mind her own, so how could she
make it up on any point?

Yet all through her troubled and dreary life one feeling had remained
alive and warm--affection for her sister Diana. "Many waters cannot
quench love," and its flame still burned bright and clear in Miss
Munnion's heart.

"Although she really is very silly," thought Iris, as they turned back
together towards the house, "there's something I like about her after
all. She's much nicer than my godmother."

She hurried Miss Munnion along as fast as she could, almost as though it
were Susie or Dottie she had in charge; and indeed the poor lady was so
nervous at the prospect of Mrs Fotheringham that she was as helpless as
a child. She stumbled along, falling over her gown at every step,
dropping her letters, or her spectacles, or her pocket handkerchief, and
uttering broken sentences about her sister Diana. Iris picked up these
things again and again, and at last carried them herself, and so brought
Miss Munnion triumphantly, but in a breathless condition, to the door of
the house.

"Now," she said, "you'd better take the letters in to my godmother and
tell her all about it at once. I'll wait here till you come back."

She had not to wait long, for Miss Munnion reappeared in less than five
m