Irene's face was beaming. "Splendid," she whispered, reassuringly. Audrey felt as though a great load had been lifted off her heart. "I will just run up and take off my hat and shoes," she said, more gaily than she had spoken for a long time. Irene followed her to her room. "I couldn't wait," she panted, as she reached the top stair. "Oh, Audrey, I do like it; it is lovely. I am sure it--will be one of the best." She wound up with sudden caution, remembering that it would be cruel to raise her hopes too high. "But do send the first one--the untidy one. Copy that one out just as it is; it is ever so much the better of the two. You have tried to improve and improve it until you have improved most of the fun out of it. Now I must fly down to tea. I am so excited, I hardly know what I am doing." But her excitement was nothing compared with Audrey's. She, in her joy, forgot everything--Mr. Vivian, the letter, the news he had brought, and never remembered either again until some time later, when Mr. Carlyle came in. "I met your grandfather at the station, Irene," he said at once. "He told me----" Audrey leaped out of her chair. "Oh, I had _quite_ forgotten," she cried remorsefully. "I am so sorry. I had a letter----" and she darted away and up the stairs, leaving them all startled and wondering. "I don't seem able to think of anybody or anything but that play," she thought. "I shall be glad when I have seen the last of it." When she went down again she fancied Irene looked at her reproachfully. "How was grandfather looking?" she was asking Mr. Carlyle, "and the others--did he say how they were?" Audrey felt more and more ashamed. Irene had been so good to her, and this was her return. "Yes, he said they were all perfectly well now, and they are all going to Ilfracombe for a long change, as soon as they can arrange matters." Irene clapped her hands ecstatically. "Keith and Daphne will love that, and mother too. Ilfracombe suits her so well. Will they want me to go with them?" Mr. Carlyle smiled ruefully. "I am afraid so. Where is the letter, Audrey. Have you taken it to your mother?" "Yes, father, and she wants you." Mr. Carlyle rose, picked up Baby Joan, and went upstairs with her in his arms, leaving Audrey to tell her tale, and make her apologies to Irene. Faith came in presently from the garden, where, rather late in the day, she had been tying up the sweet peas and sunflowers Debby and Tom had planted. "Oh, dear, I don't like weather quite as hot as this; it makes one so dreadfully tired," she sighed wearily, as she stretched herself full-length upon the shabby sofa. "Has anyone seen Joan? I ought to be giving her her supper." Irene looked at her attentively. "Let me give her her supper, and put her to bed to-night, Fay. I would love to. Do let me. She will be quite good with me now."