a house where there
was an invalid, and young children.

"And what about your mistress's lunch?" he asked, when they had succeeded
in getting the chest of drawers safely into the attic. Mary, overcome
with remorse, flew down to the kitchen without a word.

Mr. Carlyle turned to Audrey. "Had you forgotten your mother?" he asked
in a voice full of reproach.

Audrey coloured with shame. "I--I--yes, I had, father. I didn't know it
was so late--the time flew so.

"It does, when we are occupied with anything that pleases us. But it was
your duty to know how the time was going. You reminded me to-day that you
were the eldest, and that, therefore, certain privileges were due to you.
You must remember, dear, that with certain privileges, certain
responsibilities are yours too."

"I am very sorry, father. When I--when I am settled in--I will try to see
to things better."

"That's right. I hope the having a room of your very own will not prove a
temptation to you to shirk your duty; that your privileges will not block
your view of your duties. Come down now, and help Mary, in return for all
the help she has given you."

"Yes, father. I will as soon as I have washed my hands."

It took her so long though to find soap and nailbrush, and a towel, and a
brush and comb, that when, at last, she did get down to the kitchen she
found Faith just leaving it with a cup of hot beef tea on a tray, and a
plate of stewed fruit and custard. Joan sat on the floor, this time happy
with the bellows, while Mary chopped cold potatoes as fast as she could in
the frying-pan over the gas ring.

"If I can only get something ready for the master to have, I don't mind,"
she gasped, pausing for a moment. "There is plenty of cold beef, that is
one comfort, and some stewed fruit; but I did mean to have had a hot
dinner, and have kept the cold meat for supper."

"Never mind, that will be all right. It is lucky we had it."
Audrey's ideas as to what was suitable for dinner, and what should only be
had for suppers, had undergone a sharp and swift change. She resented a
little Mary's tone of proprietorship, but she decided that it would be
wiser to await another opportunity to tell Mary that it was for her,
Audrey, to arrange what they should have for this meal and that.

She took up a magazine which was lying on the table. "There doesn't seem
to be anything for me to do," she said, contentedly dropping into a chair.
She was very glad,