"We all will, we will begin by trying to understand each other, shall we? Try to be more patient, and to see how things seem to others. Don't you think a good motto for us all would be 'others first.'" "I don't think Faith needs that motto, mother," said Audrey wistfully, which was a great admission for her, and the first step on the new road she meant to tread. "Oh yes, she does, dear. We all do, some more, some less." "Well, I am one who needs it very much more," and Audrey smiled ruefully as she raised herself. "Now I am going down to see what I can do to help. I will begin by laying her breakfast-tray as nicely and temptingly as ever I can," she thought, as she hurried away. She felt so lighthearted she wanted to do something for everyone, to make all feel as happy as she did herself. But alas, alas! when she got downstairs her happiness received a check. Joan was ill. In the kitchen Audrey found Faith seated by the kitchen fire with Joan upon her lap. Joan drowsy and feverish, and fretful. Faith anxious and pale. "I believe she is ill," said Faith, looking up at her with eyes full of alarm, "she has been so restless all night. I wonder what can be the matter. I have been so careful about her food, and I don't see how she can have got a cold." Joan turned uneasily, and began to whimper, Mary came over and looked anxiously at the flushed baby face. "She's feverish, Miss Faith, she's got a cold somehow. She is so hot, and it seems to hurt her to move." With a swift shock of fear Audrey remembered what had happened the previous evening--the little thinly-clad body lying outside the bed-clothes, exposed to the draught from the open window. She coloured guiltily, but for a moment she hesitated to speak. It was so dreadful to have to heap more blame upon herself--to have to make everyone think more hardly of her, just when she had begun to try to make them think better. But once again she conquered herself, and so took another step, and a long one, along the new but stony road she had set out to tread. Faith looked grave as she listened. She adored her baby sister, and she found it hard not to blame Audrey. "I ought not to have gone away," she began irritably, but stopped, as it struck her what a self-righteous and conceited thing it was that she was saying. "I had better put her back to bed again, I expect," she concluded, more gently. "I suppose so," agreed Audrey doubtfully. She did not in the least know what to do in a case of illness. Mary came to the rescue. Mary had lots of brothers and sisters at home, and had had a good deal of experience.