we haven't too many flower beds,"
she laughed. "In fact, one can hardly call ours a garden. The children
play there, and, of course, that spoils it. But, of course, they must
have somewhere to play." She had put on her best company manner and
grandmotherly speech. "Will you come up now to see mother? Then I think
we ought to start. No, Debby, you must stay down, we don't want you."
Debby's face fell, but Irene looked back with a smile, which made up for
the hurt.

It was a great satisfaction to Audrey that her mother, and her mother's
room, were both so dainty and pretty, as she ushered Irene and Daphne in.
It was the first satisfaction she had felt that day, so far.

"I have been longing to see you," said Mrs. Carlyle, warmly, kissing them
both, "ever since I heard you were so near. I used to know your father
when he was a boy, and I am so glad that his children and mine should have
met. I hope you will become real friends, dear."

"I hope so," said Irene, her face alight with pleasure. "Did you really
know father? I am so glad. Abbot's Field seems so like home, for he told
us so much about it, and he loved it so."

"Mrs. Carlyle," broke in Daphne, "did you guess who we were when Audrey
told you who she had travelled home with? We told her where we lived;
but we didn't know then who she was."

Audrey blushed painfully, and waited in dread of her mother's reply.

"I--no, dear, not then. I was rather ill when Audrey came home.
I did not realise."

"I--I think we had better start now." Audrey got up from her chair, and
went to the door hurriedly. She was so nervous she felt she could not
bear any more. "The nicest part of the afternoon will be gone if we don't
go."

Daphne sprang to her feet, but Irene rose more reluctantly. "Will you be
alone while we are away?" she asked, lingering by Mrs. Carlyle's sofa.
"It seems so selfish to go away and leave you. I wish I could be with
you--or you with us."

Mrs. Carlyle looked up at her with shining eyes. "I would love a picnic
on the moor above all things," she said. "Another summer, perhaps, if you
are here, we will all go. I shall look forward to that, Irene, as eagerly
as if I were a child. Perhaps Joan will be able to go too--the big baby
and the little one!"

"Oh, I hope so," said Irene, her beautiful eyes glowing, "and I hope we
shall be here. We want mother to take a house somewhere near, we love
this part better than any--Coming, Audrey