suppose it is my fault for taking Mary away to help with my room.
I didn't think--I didn't know----"

"Oh, that's all right," said Faith cheerfully, "wash them in cold water.
Here, give them to me, and I will do it."

But Audrey's eyes had been opened, and for the time, at any rate, she saw
some things very clearly. "No," she said promptly, "if you can wash them
in cold water, I can. You sit down and rest, and talk to me. You must be
dead tired," and Faith obeyed, wondering.

That night Audrey, in a state of great delight, slept in her new room.
It was very warm certainly, so close up under the roof, but it was as
clean and neat as a new pin--all the untidiness was left behind in Faith's
room. Audrey never gave a thought to the muddle and discomfort there.
When she closed her door behind her for the night her heart was full of
nothing but pleasure and pride in her new possession. She went to the
open window, and looked out on the moonlit world below, on the pretty
cottages, the old church nestling at the foot of the hill, at the wide,
white road, winding up and up in the misty distance until she could not
see where it ended. For the first time the beauty of the spot where her
home stood, and the love of it, entered her heart.

"If only--if only," she thought, "if we were not so poor, and could have
pretty things; if only it was more beautiful, more dainty, I could love it
very much."

But, as yet, she had not the eyes to see, nor the heart to feel that her
home possessed beauties beyond all others--the most precious beauties of
all--love, sympathy, cheerfulness under poverty, patience with each
other's faults, and, above all others, a great unselfishness.

Nor was it yet brought home to her that those smaller beauties that it
lacked, the daintiness, neatness, the order that she so yearned for, it
rested with her to supply.

CHAPTER VI.

Perhaps, after all, Audrey's move to the attic was a good one.
She herself was certainly happier, and the others were happier too, for to
feel that someone is always discontented and miserable, is very
depressing, and to know that someone is finding fault with everything one
does, is apt to make one irritable and faultfinding too.

In her new room Audrey found a great interest. She did all she could to
make it pretty--it was the only part of the house that she did try to make
pretty. On her writing-table she had always a vase of fresh flowers, and
another on her