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.

The name struck a chill to Iris's very heart. She retired modestly to a
corner of the room and bent her face over her book. Had Lady Dacre
recognised her yesterday? Would she say anything about it if she had?
Could anything be more unlucky? She sat and trembled as she turned
these things over in her mind, and listened anxiously to the
conversation, but at present it did not approach any dangerous subject.
The ladies were discussing the weather, the want of rain, the new vicar,
Lady Dacre's rheumatism, and the unreasonable behaviour of Miss Munnion.
So far all was safe. How would it do to slip out of the room while
they were so busily engaged? Iris got up and moved cautiously towards
the door, but, unfortunately, she was so occupied in trying to tread
very softly that she forgot the book in her hand, and it slid to the
floor with a loud thump. The conversation stopped, and Lady Dacre
turned her good-natured face in the direction of the noise. She was a
nice-looking pink-faced old lady, with silver hair, and a cozy black
satin bonnet.

"So you have your little god-daughter with you still?" she said to Mrs
Fotheringham. "Ah, I recollect we met yesterday in the Dinham Road."

Iris looked beseechingly at her, but she only nodded and smiled
comfortably.

"In the Dinham Road!" repeated Mrs Fotheringham, "what were you doing
in the Dinham Road alone, Iris?"

"Oh, she wasn't alone," said Lady Dacre kindly, "she had a gallant steed
and a charioteer to take care of her. She was coming along in very fine
style. I remember thinkin