"But I needn't say _much_ to him," she concluded, and the next minute she had taken the rough brown hand Moore held out to her, and clambered over the side of the cart. David, who had laid back one long furry ear as though listening to the conversation, now pricked it forward again and started off. Seated on the rough plank, which shook and rattled with every movement of the cart, Iris felt in the best possible spirits. This was indeed a pleasant way of travelling, and how wonderfully superior to the stuffy comfort of Mrs Fotheringham's well-cushioned brougham! The Dinham road was full of new beauties seen in this manner; the evening breeze was soft and cool, and from some of the fields came the sweet smell of hay as they passed. There was plenty of variety, too, in the bumps and jolts of the springless cart, Moore's way of driving was new and attractive, and David's paces had at least the merit of unexpectedness. Sometimes, after trotting gallantly along for some minutes with uplifted crest, he brought himself up to a sudden and determined walk; then Moore would hurl himself forward in the cart with an energetic stamp, and growl out a number of strange and injurious remarks, of which Iris only heard the first three: "_You_ David! What are you up to? _Git_ along with you!" The rest died away in a hoarse murmur as David quickened his movements. Iris enjoyed it all thoroughly, and sat holding on with both hands to the plank in the midst of the parcels, with a wide grin of pleasure on her face. The Dinham road was very quiet, and there were few people about; but as they approached Paradise Court an open carriage with a pair of fine chestnut horses drove rapidly by, and David, as was his custom on such occasions, drew up and stood quite still while it passed, in spite of Moore's utmost exertions. "Who was that lady in the carriage?" asked Iris, for she saw Moore touch his cap. "I think I've seen her before." "Very like, missie," answered Moore; "that was Lady Dacre from the Towers yonder." He turned into the stable-yard, helped Iris carefully down, and said slowly, as though he were continuing a previous speech: "And I take it main kind of yer, missie, to have fetched the stuff for the little un." To her relief Iris found that it was only half-past five, and that her godmother had not missed her from the house. The great adventure seemed likely to remain undiscovered, and she went to bed feeling glad she had fetched the medicine, though a little ashamed of keeping it a secret. She had no fear, however, that her disobedience would have any uncomfortable results; though in this she was mistaken, as is often the case when we judge of things too hastily. For the very next afternoon, while she was reading aloud to Mrs Fotheringham, the door opened and the maid-servant announced a visitor--Lady Dacre.