l, I do. I have some important news for you."

"Yes, granny," with increased interest, for this sounded very thrilling.

"Your father wants you at home."

Mrs. Carlyle, having brooded over the news for more than an hour, did not
realise how startling it might be to her grand-daughter to have it blurted
out in this abrupt fashion. Audrey's colour faded, leaving her quite
white. "Is mother worse?" she gasped. "Granny, please tell me quickly."

Mrs. Carlyle realised the mistake she had made, and roused herself.
"Oh, no, dear. Your mother is better--a little, I mean, and she is
stronger, but her doctor says she must lead an invalid's life, lie down,
and not walk about, or exert herself, for a whole year, and your father
says they need you at home. They need your help, and your mother will be
glad of your companionship."

The relief from her first dreadful fear was so great that Audrey's spirits
rose high. Change is always exciting too, and to feel that one is needed
is very pleasant; it makes one feel grown-up and important.

"When am I to go, granny? Soon, I suppose? Am I to keep house?"
Audrey's face was very bright as she turned it to her grandmother.
"Oh! but I shall have to leave school, shan't I, granny?" Her face fell
at that thought, and her granny said to herself, with a little pang of
pain, "She is more sorry to leave school than she is to leave me."

"Of course you will have to leave your school," she said tartly.
"You could hardly come sixty miles in the morning, and home again at
night. You might as well live here for all the company you would be to
your mother. Think before you speak, Audrey; it would save you from
saying many foolish things."

"Then shan't I go to school?"

"I don't know what arrangements your father will make; he doesn't go into
every detail in this letter. Perhaps he will get a governess for you all;
perhaps you will have to teach the younger ones."

"Oh!" Audrey did not care for that prospect. She was not fond of
children, they made a house untidy and noisy, and required so much
attention. All the same, though, it was very nice to be going home as
mistress of the house, and companion to her mother. Perhaps her mother
would help her with her story-writing. It would be grand if she could
write stories and sell them, and earn enough money to buy her own clothes.
Granny Carlyle did not approve of her writing, or reading either.
Indeed, there was scarcely a book in t