I shall speak to father about your behaviour, and I do think you might have tried to behave decently and not have made such a noise when Joan is ill, and we want her to sleep. You think of no one but yourselves--you two."

"Joan ill! You might have told us before. How were we to know? and--and you were making more noise than anybody, and--and it was all your fault in the beginning," cried Tom. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself Audrey, you are the eldest, and--and you knew Joan was ill."

Debby was less angry, and more concerned. "Where is Joan?" she asked anxiously. "Is she in bed?"

"She is in the kitchen by the fire, so don't go there making a noise too.

You had better play in the garden, and do be as quiet as you can."

"I am going to see mother first," retorted Debby, "we always do when we are dressed. Mummy likes us to. And we don't make a noise if we _know_ we mustn't. If you had only told us Joan was ill----"

But Audrey was already half-way down the stairs, on her way to the kitchen. "Children are such worries," she sighed. "Now I will get mother's breakfast."

In the kitchen she found Faith sitting patiently by the fire, she was scarlet with the heat, and very weary, but there was a look of relief in her eyes. "She is sleeping so comfortably," she whispered. "That shows that she is in less pain, doesn't it?"

"I should think so. You look awfully hot."

"Hot! I am roasting, I feel quite faint every now and then, but I don't mind anything if it is doing Joan good."

"Can't you put her down? Make her up a bed on a chair or something, can't you?"

"No. She rouses at once if I try to put her out of my arms. I would rather hold her. It doesn't matter about being hot. I shall cool down again some day."

Audrey picked up a tray. "I am going to get mother's breakfast," she announced. "I want to make it look nice. Mary, can you wipe this tray for me, it has something sticky on it."

Mary put down her saucepan of milk and went away with the tray in her hand. "I s'pose it must have touched something," she said cheerfully.

"Yes, evidently--and you couldn't have washed it properly. It has made my hands sticky too." It really was aggravating, for she had only just washed them. "Where can I find a clean tray-cloth, Mary?"

"In the drawer of the press, miss."

Audrey's face wore an expression of deep disdain as she turned over the collection of things in the untidy drawer. "I can't see anything fit to use," she said irritably. "Where are the clean ones kept, Mary?"

"We have only two, miss, one is in the wash, the other you've got in your hand. It is a bit crumpled, I am afraid."

"If we've got so few, it's a pity not to take more care of those we have,"

grumbled Audrey, "this really is not fit to use, but I suppose I must."

When she began to collect the china, the cup, as usual, had a smear on it, and the plate was not clean. "I had better wash it all, I suppose, as usual!" she thought impatiently, and banged open the tea-towel drawer with such force that Joan started out of her sleep.

"I'd have got the tray ready, if you'd left it, Miss Audrey," said Mary shortly.

"I wanted to make it look nice and tempting."

Poor Faith grew to look hara.s.sed and miserable. Whatever happened, she did not want a collision between Audrey and Mary. Mary was rough, and not thorough, but she was good-tempered, hard-working, and ready to turn her hand to anything.

Mr. Carlyle came into the kitchen. "Is breakfast nearly ready?" he asked, "it is nine o'clock, and I have a full day before me--why, Baby! what is the matter?" He stood looking down at his two flushed daughters, while Faith explained. "But I think she is better," she concluded eagerly, "look, daddy, she is smiling at you! If we are careful all day, I daresay she will be well to-morrow."

"And do you intend to sit by that fire all day with her! Why, you will be a cinder."

Faith laughed, "I am rather hot, but it has done her good, I am sure--at least the hot bath and the heat has. Mary thought of it, wasn't it clever of her?"

"I will take her presently, Miss Faith, while you have your breakfast,"

said Mary, much gratified by the little compliment.

Mr. Carlyle went over to where Audrey stood arranging a few flowers on her mother's tray. "How dainty!" he said approvingly, "your mother will appreciate that, dear. She loves pretty, dainty things about her.

I am going over to Abbot's Field to-day," he added, "and I thought I would call on Mrs. Vivian, and the old gentleman. Will you come with me, to represent your mother? I think it would be rather pleasant, don't you?"

Audrey coloured with embarra.s.sment. To her the prospect did not seem at all pleasant. "I--I am afraid I can't, father. I have a lot to do at home."

Her mind was full of plans for tidying house and garden, and making everything more presentable. It was a big undertaking, she knew, but she was full of zeal.

Her father looked disappointed. "Oh well, then, I must go alone.

I thought you would like to meet the young people again--and I think they still expect you--they were so anxious to see you. But never mind, I will tell them that you are busy, but are hoping to see them over here one day very soon. I had better fix a day; will Thursday do?"

"Thursday! so soon!" The suggestion filled her with dismay, but she kept her dismay to herself. "Yes, father, I think so," she said feebly, and lifting up the tray went slowly with it to her mother's room. Debby was sitting on the bed, chattering quite happily, all the temper forgotten.

"Oh, how pretty," she cried, as she caught sight of the breakfast tray.

"Oh, how tempting," said Mrs. Carlyle, smiling her appreciation, "the sight of it gives me quite an appet.i.te."

"Do you always do trays like that?" asked Tom, "or is it a birthday?"

"Yes, always. No, it is not a birthday. It is the right way, that's all."

"When I am ill in bed, will you bring up my breakfast to me on a tray with a white cloth, and a flower, and a dear little dainty teapot of my own?"

asked Debby eagerly.

"Yes," laughed Audrey, "but don't try to be ill on purpose."

"I think I will wait until the new governess comes," said Debby gravely.

She could not endure the thought of lessons, and of being shut up for ever so many hours a day.

As soon as breakfast was over Audrey stepped out at the front door, and surveyed the garden. "It is the first thing they will see," she thought despondingly, as, with the expected guests in her mind, she looked from the ragged gra.s.s to the unswept path, and thence to the untrimmed bushes.

"I wish I could get Job Toms to cut the gra.s.s. I must ask father to order him to."

Faith on her way back to the kitchen and Joan, saw Audrey in the garden and joined her. "I wish we had flower beds on either side of the path,"

said Audrey, "they would look so pretty, but I suppose the children would always walk on them."

"They wouldn't if they were told not to," declared Faith, always ready to champion the little imps. "What a jolly idea, Audrey. If Joan wasn't ill I'd come out this minute and begin to make them. It wouldn't take very long."

"Oh yes, it would, to make them properly. We ought to have a real gardener to do it, and then we should want dozens of bedding plants, we should have to have something to start with. But all that would cost very nearly a sovereign, I expect."

"I hadn't thought of having bedding plants," said Faith, disappointedly.

"Of course we couldn't spend money on plants. I was thinking of roots, and seeds, and cuttings. The people in the village would gladly give us a lot. Mrs. Pope offered me young sunflower seedlings only a week or two ago, and Miss Babbs is always offering me phloxes, and wallflowers, and things. We could soon fill up the beds, I am sure, and with things that would come up year after year by themselves. Let's each make a bed for ourselves, shall we, Audrey, and each do our own in our own way. It would make the garden look ever so much nicer."

"I couldn't, and if I can't, you can't, at least you oughtn't to.

It would look too silly to have a bed on only one side. The garden would look like a pig with one ear."

"It would be a very pretty pig," laughed Faith, "at least its one ear would."