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Miss Munnion, we will now go indoors, and you’ll perhaps be kind enough to show this young lady her room, and tell her when we dine and so forth.

Well, Iris, when you want to know anything, or do anything, or go anywhere, you are to ask Miss Munnion.

Miss Munnion doesn’t mind being asked ‘why.’

Over her cap she wore a comfortable white woollen hood, and in her hand she carried a stumpy blue umbrella; every now and then she stopped, and pointed out some special favourite with this, or shook it scornfully at something inferior, and in these criticisms Miss Munnion agreed with nods and shakes of the head.

The ladies were discussing the weather, the want of rain, the new vicar, Lady Dacre’s rheumatism, and the unreasonable behaviour of Miss Munnion.