Debby was less angry, and more concerned. "Where is Joan?" she asked anxiously. "Is she in bed?"
"She is in the kitchen by the fire, so don't go there making a noise too. You had better play in the garden, and do be as quiet as you can."
"I am going to see mother first," retorted Debby, "we always do when we are dressed. Mummy likes us to. And we don't make a noise if we know we mustn't. If you had only told us Joan was ill——"
But Audrey was already half-way down the stairs, on her way to the kitchen. "Children are such worries," she sighed. "Now I will get mother's breakfast."
In the kitchen she found Faith sitting patiently by the fire, she was scarlet with the heat, and very weary, but there was a look of relief in her eyes. "She is sleeping so comfortably," she whispered. "That shows that she is in less pain, doesn't it?"
"I should think so. You look awfully hot."
"Hot! I am roasting, I feel quite faint every now and then, but I don't mind anything if it is doing Joan good."
"Can't you put her down? Make her up a bed on a chair or something, can't you?"
"No. She rouses at once if I try to put her out of my arms. I would rather hold her. It doesn't matter about being hot. I shall cool down again some day."
Audrey picked up a tray. "I am going to get mother's breakfast," she announced. "I want to make it look nice. Mary, can you wipe this tray for me, it has something sticky on it."