er go away. Was she
going to be the comfort to her mother, and the help to the younger ones
that he had hoped she would, after her four years of training; or had the
years simply taught her to be selfish, and to love luxury?

Faith, too, felt unusually depressed. She was accustomed to feeling tired
in body, but to-night she felt tired in spirit also. Debby and Tom,
instead of rejoicing that they had a big sister to make home happier,
felt as though they had a stranger amongst them, who disapproved of
everything.

In her heart of hearts Audrey knew it too. She felt that she was being
disagreeable, that so far she had given no one cause to be glad that she
had come home; and, once her first anger had subsided, the feeling added
greatly to her sadness. She longed to be able to get away by herself for
a while; but in that busy house she knew there was but little chance of
solitude.

"I must have a room to myself, I must! I must!" she thought desperately,
"if it is only an attic. Somewhere where I can put my books and desk."
Suddenly she remembered that the house had attics, some of which were not
used--at least, two were unused when she lived at home. Her heart gave a
great leap of excitement. If one were still empty, could not she have it?
She felt she could put up with everything else, if she might but have one
place of her very own.

She longed to ask about it at once, and set her mind at rest, but second
thoughts showed her that it would be too selfish, too ungracious to be
inquiring about a room for herself on the very first evening of her
home-coming, especially after the nursery--an extra large room--had been
given up to them that they might be happy and comfortable.

She would wait a day or two, she decided, and then make the suggestion to
Faith. Faith would agree, she was sure, if she thought it would give
pleasure. She was always so easy-going and good-tempered; so ready to
fall in with any plan for making others happy.

Audrey's spirits brightened, and the brightness showed in her face.
Her father, watching her anxiously, saw that the cloud had lifted, and
thought that perhaps after all it might only have come from
over-tiredness, and a very natural sorrow at leaving her grandmother and
her home of four years.

"I have taken your boxes upstairs," he said, laying his hand caressingly
on her shoulder, "you will be able to unpack after tea if you like."

Audrey looked up at him with the brightest