inutes shaking her head mournfully.

"It's just as I thought it would be," she said. "Mrs Fotheringham
thinks it's very unreasonable of me to want to go to Diana."

"Did you tell her she was ill?" asked Iris.

"Yes, and she said she supposed there were doctors in Sunderland who
would do her more good than I should. She doesn't seem to be able to
understand why I should want to go. She says it's fussy."

"Did you tell her that I would read to her while you are gone?" asked
Iris.

"No, my dear, I couldn't get that in; she's so very impetuous. And
besides, the first thing she said was:--

"`Of course you'll understand, Miss Munnion, that if you feel obliged to
go to Sunderland our connection is at an end.' So I shall lose the
situation after all," ended Miss Munnion with a sigh.

Iris stood in silent thought for a moment.

"Did she look _very_ angry?" she said at length.

"Well, yes," said Miss Munnion. "I must say she seemed completely
upset. I think she was vexed to start with, because, you know, she
didn't get her nap."

"You stop here a minute," said Iris suddenly, and ran into the house.
She pushed open the door of Mrs Fotheringham's sitting-room gently and
peeped in. Her godmother was sitting very upright in her high-backed
chair, a frown on her brow, and the parrot on her shoulder. She looked
so alarming that Iris felt almost inclined to run away again, but the
old lady turned her head suddenly and saw her.

"Well," she said, with an air of sarcastic resignation, "what do _you_
want? Any more ducks under bee-hives, or have _you_ got a sick sister
too?"

"Please, godmother," said Iris, with a great effort, "I want you to let
me read to you while Miss Munnion is away."

"Oh!" said Mrs Fotheringham.

She stared silently at Iris for a moment, then resumed.

"I've no doubt it would be an immense pleasure to listen to you if you
read like most children of your age. Anything more?"

Iris became scarlet under her godmother's fixed gaze, for both she and
the parrot seemed to be chuckling silently at her confusion. But she
thought of Diana, and of poor Miss Munnion waiting outside, and managed
to gasp out:

"Please let Miss Munnion come back."

"She hasn't gone yet that I know of," replied Mrs Fotheringham, without
removing her eyes from the child.

"But she _must_," continued Iris, "because of Diana."

"Well, I must say, you are a most extraordinary child," said the old
lady, after anoth