"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 another 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.