his
arms. "I don't know, dear," he said helplessly. "I suppose we aren't
very good nurses. Perhaps we are not stern enough. I am sorry I came in
just then, she might have gone off if I hadn't, but I wanted to speak to
you particularly; there is a great deal I want to discuss. How is your
mother? I haven't been in to see her. I saw that her room was dark,
so I thought she was probably asleep."

"I expect she is. She seemed very sleepy when I gave her her cornflour at
seven. I haven't been able to go to her since, baby has been so
restless."

"Isn't she well?"

"Oh, yes, she is well, but while I was down making the cornflour I had to
leave her with Tom and Debby, and they got playing, of course, and excited
her so much she can't go to sleep."

"Couldn't Mary have made the cornflour or have looked after baby for the
time?"

"No, she was ironing, and she doesn't know yet just how mother likes it."

"Oh! but can't you come down, dear, until this minx is slumbering?"

Faith looked at the grate where a few cinders only lay grey and lifeless
at the bottom; then she looked at her father with a mischievous twinkle in
her pretty brown eyes. "I can't unless we take baby too," she said.
"Of course it is very wrong and a real nurse would faint at such
behaviour, but, shall we, daddy? It is cold up here, and lonely--and,
oh! I am so hungry and quite hoarse with singing lullabies."

"Poor child! Come downstairs and we will not think about what real nurses
would say. This little person is really so sleepy she will hardly realise
what has happened."

Faith's eyes sparkled. "We mustn't let Tom and Debby know, or they will
be down too. If we go very softly perhaps they won't hear, they were
nearly asleep when I looked in at them just now. I hope baby won't give a
yell on the stairs."

"I will try to prevent her. Now then, come along."

Baby Joan, as though she understood all about it, and what was expected of
her, smiled up at them knowingly, but she did not make a sound, not even
when they paused at her mother's bedroom door and looked in.

The firelight shining on the invalid's face showed that she was sleeping
peacefully, so they tiptoed away again and reached the hall without having
disturbed anyone. In the dining-room the lamp was lighted, but so badly
that it smelt horribly; the fire was out and the room was cold and
cheerless.

"Oh dear," sighed Faith, "no coal here, either," and dashed away to the