a
very ragged piece of damask in her hand.

"I know we have some better ones somewhere," she said, "but I can't think
where they have got to. I can't find anything but this."

"Oh, don't bother," pleaded Audrey, embarrassed by the trouble she was
causing.

Mr. Carlyle sighed softly, but not so that Faith could hear. "I think we
shall have to put you in charge of the linen-cupboard," he said, smiling
down at his elder daughter, and Audrey's face brightened. She loved
granny's nice neat linen cupboard, with its neat piles of towels and
pillow-cases, sheets and tablecloths all in such beautiful order.

She picked up her knife and fork to begin her meal, trying not to see that
the knife had not been cleaned, but when she felt the handle of her fork
sticky in her clasp her patience gave out, she could not eat with dirty
messy things, and she would not. With a face like a thunder-cloud she
laid down both again, "I don't think I will have any, thank you," she said
huskily. "I--I----" She was so thoroughly put out she could scarcely
speak, for she really was very hungry and she really wanted her tea.

Her father, with a very concerned face, laid down his own knife and fork
and looked at her anxiously. "Perhaps it was not a very wise choice to
have made for you after a journey," he said, "would you rather have some
cold meat, dear?"

"No, thank you, it is very nice, but--but----"

"You would rather have some bread and butter."

She would not at all prefer bread and butter, at that moment she felt she
hated it, she was so hungry and longed for the savoury sausage and potato.
It was not the food she objected to but what she had to eat it with.
After the fuss, though, about the table-napkin she had not the courage to
speak out. So she sat and ate bread and jam sulkily, and almost choked
over her tea and refused to smile at anyone or at anything that was said.

In her heart she wondered how she could ever endure the hopeless muddle,
the dirt and untidiness, for fifty-two long weeks. "Three hundred and
sixty-five days of it!" she thought angrily, "and I haven't lived through
one yet! Oh, I must write to granny and beg her to let me come back to
her again. They must manage without me here, I simply cannot bear it."

Again a shadow fell on the happiness of all. Mr. Carlyle, looking at his
eldest daughter's downcast face, wondered if he had done right by her; not
so much in having her home now, as in ever letting h