"Of course we are very glad to have you," Audrey answered, meeting the eager eyes; but her voice lacked that ring of genuineness which means more than any other; the ring which sounded so clearly in her father's. She knew it, and was sorry; but she could not help it. There was that to be said for Audrey--she was honest. She could not feign a pleasure she did not feel; and she had yet to learn to feel the pleasure which comes with trying to make others happy. "You couldn't help it," she added lamely; "don't worry about it, Irene," but that seemed only to make matters worse. Irene's face showed that, and her own heart told her so. Oh, how she longed to be one of the happy-go-lucky, don't-care people, like Faith, who felt nothing but gladness at welcoming people, and were quite unconcerned as to what they were welcoming them to! It was really her care for her visitor's comfort which lay at the bottom of her seemingly cold welcome, her over-anxiety that everything should be as nice as she was accustomed to. "No, I couldn't help it. But--I think I ought to go home presently. I can manage to, I can really, and mother would be so glad." Tears came into her eyes. She was feeling so shaken and faint, and in such pain all over, she seemed to lose grip on herself. A sudden longing to be petted and made much of, swept over her. Fortunately at that moment Faith came rushing in. "What has happened?" she cried anxiously. "I have only just heard that there has been an accident.--Oh, Irene! you poor darling, you do look bad. Here, lean back, and let me arrange the cushions more comfortably. Oh, your poor face, how it must hurt you. Wouldn't it be more comfortable if I bathed it with warm water?" "We have got to get the spare room ready as quickly as possible," said Audrey, briskly, rousing herself to action. "She is wet through, she must go to bed as soon as she can." "Here? Irene is going to stay here? Oh, how lovely! I am awfully sorry for you, Irene, but, oh, I am so glad." Faith's face was one beam of welcome. No thought of their unpreparedness troubled her. "Well, Irene won't be glad, unless we hurry and get a room fit for her to go into," Audrey retorted sharply. "She must be cold and miserable." "Oh, we will soon get the room straight; she can go into mine if she likes." "She must have peace and quiet," said Audrey dryly, "and she ought to have a hot bath at once. Granny always made me have one if I got wet; it takes the pain and stiffness out of one's bones." Faith lifted up one of the poor scratched hands, and looked at it. "We sometimes have mustard in our baths," she said mischievously, "when we have colds, but I don't think we will give Irene mustard in hers now!" Irene chuckled faintly, though she could not help shuddering. Faith's welcome had raised her spirits considerably. "A hot bath _without_ mustard would be lovely, if it isn't inconvenient. My clothes are soaked through, and I am growing so chilly----"