"I didn't eat any dinner," announced Daphne, "when I saw what Irene had made, I thought I would wait. You see, it was a boiled mutton dinner, and I can't bear boiled mutton."
"Some of the things you saw are for supper," laughed Irene, "so I am afraid you have a long time to wait yet."
Daphne's face fell. "Four hours more! Never mind, I don't want the time to hurry past—though it will."
Faith, the same happy, bright-faced Faith, strolled up to the window, one hand tucked affectionately through old Mr. Vivian's arm, the other leading Joan. In the sunshine her hair glowed like a halo round her head; on the bosom of her white dress glowed her ruby cross. Her frock was only of the cheapest soft muslin, but it was sound and neat, her shoes had all their buttons on, her stockings were guiltless of darns of another colour. In her pretty brown eyes love beamed on all, and happiness.
"Who would like a donkey ride?" called out Mr. Vivian. "Tom, Daphne, are you coming? Debby, where's my little Debby?"
Debby was never far from Tom, nor from Mr. Vivian when she could be with him.
"Audrey, are you coming too?"
"I don't know," said Audrey, smiling. "I want to go with you, and I want to be here in case mother needs me."
"And I want you," said Irene, in the midst of bustling round. "I want you very particularly."
"The truth is," said Mr. Vivian, his kind old eyes resting on her very tenderly, "we all need you. We can't get on without you. Never mind, wait for your mother, child. She needs you most of all." And with a wave of the hand they left.