"Oh, Audrey, how lovely!" Faith gazed at her sister with eyes full of wistful admiration. "I wish I could hear about it too."
"Oh, you wouldn't understand." Nevertheless, Audrey was very well pleased with her sister's appreciation.
"But I could listen, and try to. Will you have done before I come home?"
"Oh yes, of course."
Tom began to shout from down below and Faith started off at a run. "He can't find his hat and I promised to help him look for it," she added hastily.
"Faith," Audrey called after her, "don't say anything to anybody else about my story," she added in a lower tone as she leaned over the stairs. "Don't tell father, or the children, or—or Mary. I don't want anyone to know anything about it until I have sold some—at least, only mother and you."
Faith nodded back brightly, immensely pleased at being trusted with the mighty secret. She was very proud of Audrey and thought her cleverness quite remarkable.
Mrs. Carlyle was proud of her daughter too, and pleased that, at any rate, one of her children inherited her talent for writing. At least her taste—she hoped that in time it would prove a talent. And for nearly an hour she patiently listened and advised.
"You must not be too sure of yourself yet, dear," she said at last, a somewhat weary note in her voice. "You must be content to read and practise for a long time yet——"
"But mother, I am sure I could write a story as good as one I read a few days ago—there was simply nothing in it."