rl? Has the little maid come?" and the
next moment Mona was darting down the stairs and, taking the last in one
flying leap, as in the old days, sprang into her father's arms.

"My word! What a big maid you are grown!" he cried, holding her a little
way from him, and eyeing her proudly. "Granny Barnes must have taken good
care of you! And now you've come to take care of Lucy and me.
Eh! Isn't that it?"

"Yes, dad, that's it," cried Mona, excitedly, and sat back with all her
weight on the pretty flowers and the fresh eggs that her grandmother had
sent to Lucy by her.

Her father looked vexed. He knew how much his ailing wife enjoyed fresh
eggs, and how seldom she allowed herself one, but he could not very well
express his feelings just when Mona had come back to her home after her
long absence, so he only laughed a little ruefully, and said, "Same as
ever, Mona! Same as ever!"

But, to his surprise, tears welled up into Mona's eyes. "I--I didn't mean
to be," she said tremulously. "I meant to try to be careful--but I--I've
done nothing but break things ever since I came. You--you'll be wishing
you had never had me home."

"We shan't do that, I know," said Lucy kindly. "There's some days when
one seems to break everything one touches--but they don't happen often.
Now I'll make the tea. I'm sure we all want some. Come, Peter, and take
your own chair. There's no moving around the kitchen till we've put you
in your corner. Mona, will you sit in the window?"

"I think I ought to stand," said Mona tragically. "I've sat down once too
often already."

At which they all burst out laughing, and drew round the table in the
happiest of spirits.

CHAPTER III.

From the moment she lay down in her little white bed, Mona had slept the
whole night through. She had risen early the day before--early at least,
for her, for her grandmother always got up first, and lighted the fire and
swept the kitchen before she called Mona, who got down, as a rule, in time
to sit down to the breakfast her grandmother had got ready for her.

On this first morning in her home she woke of her own accord, and
half-waking, half-sleeping, and with not a thought of getting up, she
turned over and was about to snuggle down into the cosy warmth again,
when across her drowsy eyes flashed the light from her sunny window.

"Why, how does the window get over there?" she asked herself, and then
recollection came pouring over her, and s