o send the first one--the untidy one.
Copy that one out just as it is; it is ever so much the better of the two.
You have tried to improve and improve it until you have improved most of
the fun out of it. Now I must fly down to tea. I am so excited, I hardly
know what I am doing."

But her excitement was nothing compared with Audrey's. She, in her joy,
forgot everything--Mr. Vivian, the letter, the news he had brought, and
never remembered either again until some time later, when Mr. Carlyle came
in.

"I met your grandfather at the station, Irene," he said at once.
"He told me----"

Audrey leaped out of her chair. "Oh, I had _quite_ forgotten," she cried
remorsefully. "I am so sorry. I had a letter----" and she darted away and
up the stairs, leaving them all startled and wondering. "I don't seem
able to think of anybody or anything but that play," she thought.
"I shall be glad when I have seen the last of it."

When she went down again she fancied Irene looked at her reproachfully.
"How was grandfather looking?" she was asking Mr. Carlyle, "and the
others--did he say how they were?"

Audrey felt more and more ashamed. Irene had been so good to her, and
this was her return.

"Yes, he said they were all perfectly well now, and they are all going to
Ilfracombe for a long change, as soon as they can arrange matters."

Irene clapped her hands ecstatically. "Keith and Daphne will love that,
and mother too. Ilfracombe suits her so well. Will they want me to go
with them?"

Mr. Carlyle smiled ruefully. "I am afraid so. Where is the letter,
Audrey. Have you taken it to your mother?"

"Yes, father, and she wants you."

Mr. Carlyle rose, picked up Baby Joan, and went upstairs with her in his
arms, leaving Audrey to tell her tale, and make her apologies to Irene.

Faith came in presently from the garden, where, rather late in the day,
she had been tying up the sweet peas and sunflowers Debby and Tom had
planted. "Oh, dear, I don't like weather quite as hot as this; it makes
one so dreadfully tired," she sighed wearily, as she stretched herself
full-length upon the shabby sofa. "Has anyone seen Joan? I ought to be
giving her her supper."

Irene looked at her attentively. "Let me give her her supper, and put her
to bed to-night, Fay. I would love to. Do let me. She will be quite
good with me now."

Faith stirred lazily and half rose. "Oh no--we shall leave everything to
you soon, Irene. I can do