t a pleasant one for her to
carry away on her journey.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

HOME AGAIN.

The little flat looked bright and cheery when the traveller reached
home. A new lampshade had replaced the one which Mary had burned,
sixpence-worth of flowers were displayed to the utmost advantage against
a background of dried fern, and the three sisters were beaming with joy
at the return of their peacemaker. They asked questions steadily for an
hour on end, and even then were far from being satisfied; for, though
Hope smiled and declared that she had had "a lovely time," they were
vaguely conscious of the difference which she herself felt only too
surely. Hitherto home had meant the centre of interest, and its walls
had practically bounded the world; now her heart was a wanderer, and at
every pause in the conversation roved away to that distant spot where it
had found fresh anchorage. Fortunately for the keeping of her secret,
the girls were enthusiastic on the subject of the children's
entertainment, and encouragingly sanguine of success. Theo had finished
writing the story, and read it aloud after dinner to an appreciative
audience, who unanimously decided that she must give her attention to
children's stories forthwith, since nothing more poetically graceful,
and at the same time interesting and exciting, could be wished to while
away the children's hour. Hope was humming over the refrain of a
chorus, and trying to decide which of two well-known airs would be more
suitable, when Madge drew a sheet of paper from a portfolio and held it
towards her with conscious pride.

"My share in the Amalgamated Sisters' Enterprise, Limited! I never like
to be out of a good thing, so, though I was not asked, I determined to
have a finger in the pie. You will want some sort of advertisement to
take round to entertainment agencies, and to distribute among friends.
There you are!"

There Hope was indeed, for Madge was never more happy than when she
could give full play to her fancy. For years past she had amused
herself by designing artistic programmes for the small bazaars and
concerts that had taken place at her country home, so that she had
experience as well as interest to help her on this occasion. Hope grew
quite pink with pleasure and embarrassment as she looked down the sheet
and tried to realise that she herself was the performer of whom it
spoke.

"_Tell me a story_!" ran the heading, in quaint, uneven lettering;