"It is almost too dreadful to be borne!" cried Debby tragically, meaning the disappointment, not the measles. "Don't you think it is only a bad dream, and we'll wake up presently?" Tom shook his head gloomily. "I'm awake right enough," he said, "so are you." "I wish I wasn't; I'd never been asked away before, in all my life, and there would have been the train, and the donkey cart when we got there, and a s-s-swing in the orchard. Oh, Faith, isn't it dreadful, that such things can happen, and all because of measles--as if measles are anything to make a fuss about." "Some people make such a fuss about a little thing," scoffed Tom, "I wouldn't have minded going and catching them. I've got to have them some time, I s'pose, so I might as well have had them there as at home-- better, too!" "I doubt if Mrs. Vivian would have thought so," said Faith. "Cheer up, both of you, and try not to mind. Perhaps Mrs. Vivian will ask you again some day, and you see you can't go, neither can Irene, so we shall have her here for a long time yet--and won't that be jolly!" When Audrey had first heard the news she had breathed a sigh of relief and sympathy. Relief, when she thought of the scanty, shabby little outfits which were all they had to take with them. Sympathy with their disappointment. She knew what it was to feel the latter. Irene was frankly dismayed. To land oneself suddenly on new friends for a day or two was bad enough, but to be told that you must not return home for some weeks--indeed, for no one knew how long--was most embarrassing. "I am so sorry," she said apologetically to Mrs. Carlyle, "I expect mother will arrange for me to go somewhere as soon as possible, I--I hope it won't be very inconvenient my staying here until I hear." Mrs. Carlyle smiled at her affectionately. "Inconvenient! Irene, dear, how could it be. We should simply rejoice to have you as long as you can stay--that is, of course, if you would like to. The Vicar wrote to your mother at once to know if we might keep you during the time, and we are waiting to hear." "Like to! Oh, Mrs. Carlyle, how good you are to me! I would like it better than anything," she cried enthusiastically, bending down to give the invalid a warm kiss. Then, turning swiftly, she caught up Baby Joan and danced with her round the room. "Oh, isn't it perfectly lovely, Joan darling. I am going to stay with you, Joany Carlyle, for weeks, instead of going to strangers. If you were only half as pleased as I am you would clap your hands and sing." "She would if she understood," laughed Mrs. Carlyle. "I would too, if I could." Irene stood still suddenly in the middle of her pirouetting. "Would you? Would you, really?" she exclaimed; her cheeks were flushed and her eyes shone. "Are you really sure I shall not be a bother?"