t the contents there came the sound of a shrill whistle, then a
rattle and a roar, and the train thundered down on the little station, and
drew up.

After that it was all soon ended. A good-bye, a kiss, a promise to write,
and a "be sure and let me know how your mother goes on. I shall count on
you to send me bulletins frequently, your father is so busy. Good-bye,
dear, good-bye--keep away from the door," and the engine, puffing a little
louder, and a little louder, moved on its way again. Neither Mrs. Carlyle
nor Audrey were sorry when the strain was over. It had to be; the pain
lay in that; a few minutes more or less of each other's company was but
little pleasure when the life they had enjoyed together was ended.

For a while after the engine steamed out, and the last glimpse of the
station was gone from Audrey's sight, she felt utterly miserable, and the
tears would have their way. She loved her grandmother very much, and she
loved living with her, and, for the moment, at any rate, she was not
charmed with the thought of life at home, the noisy children, the plain
food, the shabby clothes, and even shabbier house. Tears trickled down
her cheeks, and one actually dropped on the new blue bag. "Oh, dear!"
exclaimed Audrey, vexedly, "I expect there will always be a mark!"

The engine began to slow down before stopping at the next station.

"Oh, dear," cried Audrey again, "I expect I look an object!" She jumped
up and tried to see herself in the strip of looking-glass conveniently
placed along the back of the opposite seat. "What a bother it is that one
can't cry without getting to look so----" She subsided on to her seat
hastily, leaving her thought unfinished, and pulled her hat down over her
eyes, turned her back on the platform end of her carriage and gazed
fixedly out of the opposite window, for a whole party of people had caught
sight of her nice empty carriage, and were making for it.

"There are heaps of room here, mother, and such a nice carriage too!" said
a boy's voice eagerly.

Audrey could not help looking round, but she pretended it was to pick up
one of her magazines, and, being still afraid that her eyes and nose were
red, she continued to pretend to be absorbed in the contents. She was so
vexed with the newcomers for invading her carriage that she would not have
looked at them--so she told herself--even if her eyes had not been red;
but, if she refused to look, she could not refuse to hea