er pause, "with your ducks and your Dianas! What is it
to you, I should like to know, whether Miss Munnion goes or stays? It
doesn't interfere with _your_ comfort, I suppose."

Iris could not answer this question, but she stuck to her point, and
said in a low voice:

"I should like her to see her sister and come back."

Mrs Fotheringham looked more and more puzzled, and her frown grew
deeper. Iris felt that there was not a gleam of hope for Miss Munnion
and Diana; but when at last the words came she found she was mistaken,
for they were as follows:

"You may go and tell Miss Munnion," said the old lady, "that the sooner
she starts on this wild-goose chase the better, and that I will spare
her for one week, but if she wants to stop away longer she needn't come
back at all. And this is on the condition that neither you nor she are
to mention her sister Diana to me ever again, whether she is ill, or
well, or anything about her. As to your reading to me, I've no doubt
you either mumble or squeak, and I couldn't bear it, so pray don't
imagine you'll be the least use while she's away, or let her imagine
it."

She waved her mittened hand fretfully, and Iris, thankful to be
released, flew with her good news to the trembling Miss Munnion.

Early the next morning, almost unnoticed by the household, and carrying
her own little black bag, she started on her two-miles walk to the
station. Iris went with her as far as the lodge gates.

"Good-bye," she said, holding out her hand, "and I hope you'll find your
sister Diana better." She felt inclined to add, "Take care of your
purse, and don't lose your ticket," as though she were parting from a
child; but Miss Munnion suddenly leaned forward, and gave her a hard
little nervous kiss. It felt more like a knock from something wooden
than a kiss, and Iris was so startled that she received it in perfect
silence. Before she had recovered herself the small figure, more
lop-sided than ever now, because it was weighed down by the bag, had
stumbled through the gates, and was on its way down the road. Iris
watched till it was out of sight, and then went slowly back to the
house.

STORY THREE, CHAPTER 3.

THE LOST CHANCE.

"For all is bright, and beauteous, and clear,
And the meanest thing most precious and dear,
When the magic of love is present--
Love that lends a sweetness and grace
To the humblest spot and the plainest face,
That turns Wilderness Row to