"Indeed, indeed, I love to have you here, darling." There was no mistaking the meaning in Mrs. Carlyle's voice. "It is like letting sunshine into the house. We all love having you--and it is so good for the girls. They have no real companions here." When, a few minutes later, Irene went downstairs and into the garden, her face was grave, but her eyes still glowed. "Sunshine!" Mrs. Carlyle had called her. She was like sunshine in the house. What a glorious thing to have said of one--and she had done nothing to deserve it either. Well, here was her chance. She had not been in the Vicarage those few days without learning that there was a lot to be done, and few to do it. Here was her opportunity! Faith was in the garden looking at the flower bed. "I can't understand it," she said, in a puzzled voice, as Irene drew dear, "there seem to be seedlings, or something, coming up all over it. They look like real flowers, don't they? Or do you think they are weeds? If they are, they ought to be pulled up, but I don't like to until I know." "Oh no, let them stay. I am sure they aren't weeds, Faith. Look at those, they are sweet peas, I am certain they are, and this is young mignonette." Faith's face was as puzzled as her voice. "It is a most extraordinary thing about this bed," she said soberly, "I made it, and then Audrey didn't like it because we hadn't any nice bedding plants for it, so I put in a few things that I had given me, phloxes and sunflowers, and wallflowers, and--oh, I forget quite what, but I forgot all about watering them, and I thought they were dead, but they aren't. They pulled through somehow; I never planted any seeds, though, I am quite sure. Yet the bed is getting to look quite full! I think the fairies must have come at night, and sown them!" "Or the brownies," suggested Irene. "We won't watch for them, then perhaps they will plant some more. They stop working if they are watched!" she laughed. "Well, it's brownies, or something, and I want to thank them," said Faith gratefully, if ungrammatically. "I want to dreadfully. What are you smiling at, Irene?" "Was I smiling? Oh Fay, I can't help it, I am so happy. Your father and mother have asked my mother to let me stay here with you until the measles have gone. Isn't it lovely of them!" "Have they? Have they really?" Faith's face was a picture of glad surprise. "Oh, Irene, how lovely! how jolly! They hadn't said a word to us. I expect they knew how disappointed we should be, if your mother said 'no.' But she mustn't say 'no '! She _must_ let you stay. It will be perfectly lovely having you here." And she threw her arms round Irene's waist and hugged her. "Oh, I am so glad," she sighed, "I don't know what to do!" "Keith and Daphne will be wild with envy," said Irene, returning the hug. "Poor dears, they will have a dull time, I am afraid." "We will write them letters, to cheer them up, shall we? and send them all sorts of things--for fun."