nto the kitchen?"

Mrs. Carlyle was of the same happy, easy-going nature as Faith, and minded
nothing of that sort. Even if she had known the state of muddle the
kitchen was in, she would not have been troubled by Irene's going into it.

But though the muddle was there, as usual, and worse than usual, Irene did
not see it. The shock she received when she opened the kitchen door,
drove everything else from her thoughts, and it was not until some time
later that she had eyes for the kitchen itself.

In the middle of the floor sat Mary, propped against the table leg, while
on either side of her knelt Audrey and Faith, trying to staunch the blood
which flowed freely from Mary's hand. Mary's face was as white as chalk,
her eyes nearly popping out of her head with alarm. Audrey and Faith
looked almost as frightened.

When Irene appeared on the scene they turned their faces to her in evident
relief. "Oh, Irene, Mary has cut her poor hand fearfully, and--and it
will not stop bleeding, and we don't know what to do, we have been here
ever so long, and it isn't stopping a bit. Do you think we ought to send
for Doctor Gray?"

"I shouldn't think so," said Irene reassuringly, "not if it is an ordinary
cut. Let me see it, may I?"

"Oh, no, you mustn't look at it. You will faint!"

"I don't faint from that kind of thing, I am used to it. We are always
damaging ourselves, and I doctor them all. Anyhow, I know that Mary ought
not to hold her hand down like that,"--gently raising it to check the
flow--"it will bleed for hours if she does. Have you any soft rag?"

"Plenty, I should think," Audrey replied sarcastically, "but I don't know
where to find any." Irene, looking at her closely for the first time, saw
that she was white to the lips, and trembling.

"Look here," she said quickly, "I came down for a glass of milk for your
mother, and some biscuits, will you take them up to her? She will be
waiting, and wondering what has become of me. Then you stay with her and
talk to her. Don't tell her what has happened--simply say that I am busy.
Don't come down again, Audrey, you will be fainting if you stay here, and
we can manage by ourselves. Don't cry, Mary, it will be all right.
I am sure it will."

"I--I believe I've taken a bit of my finger right off," sobbed Mary.
"I am sure I have, p'raps it's gone. Do look, miss."

"Oh no, it isn't gone. Don't scream so, Mary, you will frighten Mrs.
Carlyle and make her ve