the
Coronation flag is 'God save our Mother,' and on the Sunday School ones
'God bless our Mother.' Can you pretend like that, mummy? I can."

"Yes, darling, for it is no pretence. He has saved me, and blessed me,"
she said softly.

The carriage was to drive slowly through the village that the heroine of
the day might see it all again, and note all the changes which had taken
place during her long seclusion. Joan was to go with her to share the
novelty of a drive. But the other four and their father formed a guard of
honour, and marched beside them, or behind. Mary was to share in the
outing too. As soon as she had tidied herself and put things straight,
she was to hand the care of the house over to Job Toms, and go to the Mill
House as early as she could, which was only a few minutes later than her
mistress.

The slow drive turned into a veritable triumphal progress. Everyone
rejoiced to see the Vicar's wife amongst them again, every heart in the
village shared in the joy of the Vicar and his family. Miss Babbs was out
at her shop door, waving her best lace handkerchief. The old sexton's
wife ran into the road in order to present a bunch of the best flowers in
her garden. All stood out at their doors with welcoming smiles and glad
greetings.

By the time they reached the Mill House, Mrs. Carlyle was almost borne
down with the weight of love and tenderness which had been poured out upon
her--but, oh! so happy, so glad, so grateful.

At the Mill House, where all were out awaiting her. Mrs. Vivian soon
carried her off to her own little room. "You are to rest here quite
alone," she said firmly. "I shall not allow anyone to see you for half an
hour--unless, perhaps, it is your husband or Audrey."

Mrs. Carlyle looked up at her with grateful eyes, and a brave smile on her
pale, happy face. "You understand," she said gently. "I would like to be
quite alone just for a little. Oh, I feel so--unworthy, and so--so rich
beyond my deserts. I must ask for help to--to try to merit some of all I
have."

Downstairs in the long low dining-room, the table was prepared for tea.
Daphne had decorated room and table with autumn leaves, and ferns, and
flowers. In the centre stood a handsome birthday cake of Irene's making
and decorating, and surrounding it was dish after dish of tartlets, and
cakes, and other things such as made the children gaze at the clock
anxiously, fully assured that it had stopped.

"It _mus