“And with what purpose beside that of disobeying me?”
“To fetch—” Iris stopped; she was approaching the fatal forbidden subject.
“To fetch what?”
“Medicine.”
“Don’t tell me untruths,” said Mrs Fotheringham still more icily; “what could you want medicine for?”
“I’m telling the truth,” said Iris indignantly; “it was for—”
“Well, well, well,” said Mrs Fotheringham impatiently, “for—”
“Moore’s baby,” finished Iris, almost in a whisper.
“Now,” exclaimed Mrs Fotheringham, falling back in her chair, “may Heaven grant me patience!” She remained leaning back in a flattened state for so long that Iris wondered if she were ill or going to faint; but just as she determined to call the maid her godmother raised herself into her usual erect position and beckoned.
“Come here,” she said, “I’ve something to tell you. Sit down.”