ishing it off in her own brain. She tried
again and the same thing happened, then at last when she was trying to
read the end of the paragraph she had begun so many times, her eyelids
dropped before she could even find it, the book slipped from her hand and
fell forward on her face, and she had not the strength to hold it up
again.

The clang of the dinner-bell was the next thing she was conscious of, and
then the savoury smell of cooking. Then she opened her eyes and saw Joan
sitting up in her cot, playing with the book she herself had dropped.

Faith sprang off her bed, lifted Joan out of hers, and, untidy as she was,
hurried down the stairs. Suddenly the remembrance of Mary's injured hand
and the scene in the kitchen came back to her. "I suppose it is all
right, as she has got the dinner ready. Oh, Irene!"

Irene came running up the stairs, looking flushed and hurried, but very
well pleased. She had a big apron on over her cotton frock, and as she
came along she was turning down her sleeves.

"I've got to wash my hands and tidy my hair, and I mustn't keep you
waiting," she said as she whisked past. "I won't be more than a moment."

Audrey, descending from her attic, joined the little group. Her head was
full of what she had been writing, and it took her a second or two to
realise things.

"Oh, Irene, I hope you haven't been dull. I never meant to leave you
alone so long, but I was working, and--and forgot. How hot you look.
What have you been doing?"

"I am rather. I have been cooking. Oh, I have had a lovely time. Do run
down and look at my pudding--but I must fly, or everything will be cold!"
and Irene whisked away and into her bedroom.

Audrey and Faith did not rush down at once to look at Irene's pudding.
They looked at each other instead, and in the eyes of each dawned a look
of shame and remorse.

"I quite forgot," gasped Faith. "I never remembered," gasped Audrey,
"was Mary--couldn't Mary?"

But Faith had flown, leaving Joan to toddle after her. In the hall she
met Mary hurrying to the dining-room with a big dish. Her hand was bound
up, but was out of the sling, and she looked quite gay and cheerful.

"Oh, Mary!" she said, following her into the room, "I never thought about
your not being able to manage, I _am_ so sorry. It is not much use to be
sorry now, though, is it?"

"No," said Mary, laughing, "it isn't, Miss Faith--but it's all right, Miss
Irene helped me. Oh, she is a cl