e had been petty, mean, and everyone knew it, everyone must despise her.
She had hurt her own mother, she had hurt them all. She had shown them
that she was ashamed of them--and why? Not because they had done anything
wrong, or despicable, but because they were poor and were obliged to live
in a shabby house, shabbily furnished!

"Oh, I can never live it down," she thought miserably. "I can never make
them forget, and think well of me again!" She buried her face in her
pillow and groaned aloud. She wished wildly for all sort of impossible
things to happen, that she could put miles and miles, and oceans and
continents between herself and everybody--or that she could wipe out all
recollection of her foolishness from everyone's mind, or never, never have
to meet the Vivians again.

There is no way, though, of blotting out in a moment our wrongdoing,
our foolishness, our mistakes. They cannot be wiped off, as a sum off a
slate, nor the results, nor the memory of them. There is nothing to be
done but to face the consequences bravely, to live them down hour by hour;
so, profiting by the lesson thus learnt, that in time those about us will
find it hard to believe that we ever were so foolish, or wicked.
Through genuine repentance and sorrow only can we expiate our faults,
and Audrey had sense enough to know this.

"I have just got to live through it," she sighed miserably, "but oh, I
wish I hadn't hurt mother so."

As she was passing her mother's bedroom door on her way downstairs, a
sudden impulse made her knock.

"Come in," said the sweet kind voice; but as she turned the handle
Audrey's courage nearly failed her. "Oh, it's nothing," she began, and
was turning away when fortunately the thought came to her--how glad she
would be after, if she were brave now, and did what she came in to do.
"It will be a beginning," she told herself feverishly, "I shall be much
happier after," and allowing herself no more time for thought, she marched
bravely in and up to the bed.

"Mother," she said, and the tears rushed to her eyes again. "I want you
to try to forget--please, _please_. It was all a mistake. I was all--all
wrong. I am so sorry."

"My dear, I know, I understand." Her mother threw her arms round her, and
drew her gently down beside her. "I know how these things happen, if we
are not always loyal in thought and in deed. I have failed often, Audrey
dear, so I understand. But we will both forget, darling."