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 _must_ be five o'clock, or six," sighed Tom. "I am sure it is three or four hours since dinner-time." "I didn't eat any dinner," announced Daphne, "when I saw what Irene had made, I thought I would wait. You see, it was a boiled mutton dinner, and I can't bear boiled mutton." "Some of the things you saw are for supper," laughed Irene, "so I am afraid you have a long time to wait yet." Daphne's face fell. "Four hours more! Never mind, I don't want the time to hurry past--though it will." Faith, the same happy, bright-faced Faith, strolled up to the window, one hand tucked affectionately through old Mr. Vivian's arm, the other leading Joan. In the sunshine her hair glowed like a halo round her head; on the bosom of her white dress glowed her ruby cross. Her frock was only of the cheapest soft muslin, but it was sound and neat, her shoes had all their buttons on, her stockings were guiltless of darns of another colour. In her pretty brown eyes love beamed on all, and happiness. "Who would like a donkey ride?" called out Mr. Vivian. "Tom, Daphne, are you coming? Debby, where's my little Debby?" Debby was never far from Tom, nor from Mr. Vivian when she could be with him. "Audrey, are you coming too?" "I don't know," said Audrey, smiling. "I want to go with you, and I want to be here in case mother needs me." "And I want you," said Irene, in the midst of bustling round. "I want you very particularly." "The truth is," said Mr. Vivian, his kind old eyes resting on her very tenderly, "we all need you. We can't get on without you. Never mind, wait for your mother, child. She needs you most of all." And with a wave of the hand they left. Audrey went outside and rested on a seat in the sunshine. On the roof Keith's pigeons sat cooing amiably; the mingled sweetness of 'cherry-pie' and mignonette filled the warm air. Daphne's cat Snowdrop, once Debby's kitten, lay stretched out comfortably on the warm, red-tiled path. How beautiful it all was, how peaceful. Audrey sitting lost in almost a rapture of enjoyment, did not hear soft footsteps approaching, until Irene dropped on to the seat beside her. "Audrey," she said eagerly, "I do want a few minutes alone with you. There is something--very special--I want to talk to you about." Audrey looked round interestedly. "Well?" she said. "You know Christmas is not so very far off." Audrey laughed lightly. "Christmas! Just imagine being able to think of Christmas--winter--on a day like this!" "I am not thinking of winter, only of Christmas--and our party."