“If you please, miss, might you happen to have seen Muster Moore just lately?”
Iris looked round and saw a stout young woman with a checked shawl over her head; she was very red in the face, and panted as though she were quite out of breath.
“They told me in the house I should find him hereabouts,” she went on; “but I’ve run all over the place and I can’t catch sight of him, and I do want him most pertickler.”
“He isn’t here, I know,” said Iris. “He’s gone over to Dinham in the donkey-cart to fetch parcels from the station.”
“Oh, dear!” said the young woman, wiping her hot face with her apron, “how orkerd things always do happen! There’s the baby took ever so much worse. She can’t hardly fetch her breath, poor lamb! And I want some more stuff to rub her chest with. I durs’n’t leave her to go so far as Dinham myself for it.”
“Can’t you send one of the boys?” said Iris, much interested and full of sympathy.
“Bless you, missie, they’re all at school. I’ve no one only the three little uns at home. Well, I must go back. There’s a neighbour holding of her now.”
“Stop a minute,” said Iris, as the woman turned sadly away, “I’ll go and fetch it. I know the way to Dinham.”
She felt quite excited, and eager for the adventure.
“Thank you kindly, miss, but I couldn’t trouble you, not to go all that way.”