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There were many nice things to eat and pretty things to look at, but it was rather awful, too, to sit in almost perfect silence and listen to the remarks of Mrs Fotheringham and Miss Munnion. Opposite to Iris there was a long low window, through which she could see part of the lawn and a path leading to the kitchen-garden.
The drive was long and very winding, so that she did not at first perceive that there was someone in front of her who seemed to be bound on the same errand; when she did so, however, she had no difficulty in recognising the figure, which had a lop-sided movement like a bird with one wing. It was Miss Munnion.
She often thought at these times of poor Miss Munnion, and wondered how her sister Diana was, and whether she had been very glad to see her, and most of all she wondered how Miss Munnion could have been so anxious to keep the situation; she must be so very tired of sitting opposite Mrs Fotheringham and looking out of the carriage window.
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.
"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."
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.
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.
"Very likely," remarked Mrs Fotheringham composedly; "he often is. I've always noticed," she continued, with a pointed glance at her companion, "that bees, as well as birds and beasts, are quite aware when anyone's frightened of them. Moore's a complete coward, and they know it. They never touch me." The parrot and Mrs Fotheringham had already discovered that Miss Munnion was nervous.
She was afraid of all animals, but specially of parrots. "Once," continued the old lady, "you show fear to man, woman, or child, you are their bond-slave for ever. And it's the same with the lower animals." Miss Munnion said that she had often observed it, and that it was very true.
The day was warm; the room was carefully darkened Miss Munnion sat holding her book close to a crack in the Venetian blind, reaching aloud in a subdued and murmurous voice. Whether Mrs Fotheringham slept or not she had to go on for an hour.
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