Mrs. Carlyle realised the mistake she had made, and roused herself. "Oh, no, dear. Your mother is better--a little, I mean, and she is stronger, but her doctor says she must lead an invalid's life, lie down, and not walk about, or exert herself, for a whole year, and your father says they need you at home. They need your help, and your mother will be glad of your companionship." The relief from her first dreadful fear was so great that Audrey's spirits rose high. Change is always exciting too, and to feel that one is needed is very pleasant; it makes one feel grown-up and important. "When am I to go, granny? Soon, I suppose? Am I to keep house?" Audrey's face was very bright as she turned it to her grandmother. "Oh! but I shall have to leave school, shan't I, granny?" Her face fell at that thought, and her granny said to herself, with a little pang of pain, "She is more sorry to leave school than she is to leave me." "Of course you will have to leave your school," she said tartly. "You could hardly come sixty miles in the morning, and home again at night. You might as well live here for all the company you would be to your mother. Think before you speak, Audrey; it would save you from saying many foolish things." "Then shan't I go to school?" "I don't know what arrangements your father will make; he doesn't go into every detail in this letter. Perhaps he will get a governess for you all; perhaps you will have to teach the younger ones." "Oh!" Audrey did not care for that prospect. She was not fond of children, they made a house untidy and noisy, and required so much attention. All the same, though, it was very nice to be going home as mistress of the house, and companion to her mother. Perhaps her mother would help her with her story-writing. It would be grand if she could write stories and sell them, and earn enough money to buy her own clothes. Granny Carlyle did not approve of her writing, or reading either. Indeed, there was scarcely a book in the house. Audrey recovered her spirits as she remembered the books and papers at home; they seemed to overflow and spread all over the house. "I shall have my own bookcase, and keep my own books in it, away from the children," she thought to herself. "I hope I have a bedroom to myself. Oh, I must!" But the little doubt she could not get rid of sobered her again. She thought of her pretty bedroom upstairs, how lovely the comfort and peace of it had seemed to her after the bare ugly room at home, which she had shared with Faith. "Granny, do you think I shall have a room to myself at home?" she asked anxiously. "I shall hate sharing one with Faith!" "I daresay Faith will not relish sharing one with you," remarked granny, severely, "if she has to." "But she is so untidy, and after having had such a nice one all to myself, I shall miss it dreadfully."