Daddy's Girl. Meade L. T.

do, but we are all sorry, and we like you all the better for it. Won’t you shake hands with Gus and be friends?”

      “And I’ll never say a word against your father again,” said Gus.

      “You had better not,” answered Sibyl. “No, I won’t shake hands; I won’t make friends with you till I know something more about you. But I’d like to climb trees, and to get into a holland frock.”

      CHAPTER IV

      It was great fun getting into the holland frock, more particularly when it was discovered to be too short, and also very dirty. It had a great ink-stain in front, and the sleeves were tight and showed a good bit of Sibyl’s white arms. She looked at herself in the glass and danced about in her excitement.

      “You can have this old sailor hat to match the frock,” said Freda in conclusion. “Now no one will say you are too fine. Come out now, Gus and the others are waiting.”

      Yes, the sun shone once more for Sibyl, and she forgot for a time Gus’s cruel words about her father. He was most attentive to her now, and initiated her into the mystery of climbing. Screams of laughter followed her valiant efforts to ascend the leafy heights of certain beech trees which grew not far from the house. This laughter attracted the attention of a lady and gentleman who were pacing the leafy alley not far away.

      “What a noise those children make,” said Lord Grayleigh to his companion.

      “How many children have you, Lord Grayleigh?” asked Mrs. Ogilvie. She looked full at him as she spoke.

      “I have three,” he replied; “they are great scamps, and never for a single moment fit to be seen. Since their mother died” – he sighed as he uttered these words, he was a widower of over two years’ standing – “I have kept them more or less with myself. There is no harm in them, although they are pickles. Come, I will introduce you to them. That reminds me, I have not yet seen your own little daughter.”

      Mrs. Ogilvie was very proud of Sibyl, but only when she looked her best. The mother now contemplated, with a feeling of satisfaction, the nice dresses which she had secured for the child before she came into the country. No one could look more lovely than this little daughter of hers, when dressed suitably, so abundant was her golden brown hair, and so blue were her eyes, so straight the little features, so soft the curves of the rosy lips. It is true those blue eyes had an expression in them which never in this world could Mrs. Ogilvie understand, nevertheless, the child’s beauty was apparent to the most superficial observer; and Mrs. Ogilvie turned and accompanied Lord Grayleigh in the direction of the merry sounds willingly enough.

      “I see four little figures dancing about among those trees,” said Lord Grayleigh. “We will see them all together.”

      They turned down a side walk, and came face to face with Sibyl herself. Now, at that instant the little girl certainly did not look at her best. The holland frock, short and shabby, had a great rent above the knee, her soft cheek was scratched and bleeding slightly, and there was a smudge across her forehead.

      Sibyl, quite unconscious of these defects, flew to her mother’s side.

      “Oh, Mummy,” she cried, “I’m so happy. Gus has been teaching me to climb. Do you see that beech tree? I climbed as far as the second branch, and Gus said I did it splendid. It’s lovely to sit up there.”

      Sibyl did not even notice Lord Grayleigh, who stood and watched this little scene with an amused face. Mrs. Ogilvie was by no means pleased.

      “What do you mean, Sibyl,” she said, “by wearing that disgraceful frock? Why did nurse put it into your trunk? And you know I do not wish you to climb trees. You are an extremely naughty girl. No, Lord Grayleigh, I will not introduce my little daughter to you now. When you are properly dressed, Sibyl, and know how to behave yourself, you shall have the honor of shaking hands with Lord Grayleigh. Go into the house, now, I am ashamed of you.”

      Sibyl turned first red and then white.

      “Is that Lord Grayleigh?” she whispered.

      “Yes, my dear, but I shall not answer any of your other questions at present. I am extremely displeased with you.”

      “I am sorry you are angry, mother; but may I – may I say one thing, just one, afore I go?”

      Mrs. Ogilvie was about to hustle the child off, when Lord Grayleigh interfered. “Do let her speak,” he said; “she looks a most charming little maid. For my part I like children best in deshabille. What is it, little woman?”

      “It’s that I don’t want to shake hands with you – never, never!” answered Sibyl, and she turned her back on the astonished nobleman, and marched off in the direction of the house.

      Mrs. Ogilvie turned to apologize.

      “I am terribly ashamed of Sibyl, she is the most extraordinary child,” she said. “What can have possessed her to put on that frock, and why did she speak to you in that strange, rude way?” Here Mrs. Ogilvie uttered a sigh. “I fear it is her father’s doing,” she continued, “he makes her most eccentric. I do hope you will overlook her naughty words. The moment I go into the house I shall speak to her, and also to nurse for allowing her to wear that disgraceful frock.”

      “I don’t think your nurse is to blame,” said Lord Grayleigh. “I have a keen eye for dress, and have a memory of that special frock. It happens to possess a green stain in the back which I am not likely to forget. I think my Freda wore it a good deal last summer, and I remember the occasion when the green stain was indelibly fixed upon it. You must know, Mrs. Ogilvie, that my three children are imps, and it was the impiest of the imps’ frocks your little girl happened to be wearing. But what a handsome little creature she is! A splendid face. How I have come to fall under her displeasure, however, is a mystery to me.”

      “Oh, you can never account for Sibyl’s whims,” said Mrs. Ogilvie; “it is all her father’s fault. It is a great trial to me, I assure you.”

      “I should be very proud of that child if I were you,” answered Lord Grayleigh. “She has a particularly frank, fine face.”

      “Oh, she is handsome enough,” answered Mrs. Ogilvie. “But what she will grow up to, heaven only knows. She has the strangest ideas on all sorts of subjects. She absolutely believes that her father and I are perfect – could you credit it? At the same time she is a very naughty child herself. I will go into the house, now, and give her a talking to.”

      “Don’t scold her, poor little thing,” said Lord Grayleigh. He was a kind-hearted man in the main. “For my part,” he continued, “I like naughty children; I must force her confidence presently. She has quite roused my curiosity. But now, Mrs. Ogilvie, to turn to other matters, what can we do to persuade your husband to alter his mind? You know, of course, that I have asked him to assay the Lombard Deeps Mine?”

      “I do know it,” answered Mrs. Ogilvie, the color flushing into her face. “Philip is too extraordinary at times. For my part, I really do not know how to thank you; please believe that I am altogether on your side. If only we could persuade that eccentric husband of mine to change his mind.”

      “He is a strange fellow,” answered Lord Grayleigh slowly; “but, do you know, I think all the more of him for a letter I received a few days ago. At the same time, it will be prejudicial to our interests if he should not act as engineer in this new undertaking. He is the one man the public absolutely trusts, and of course – ”

      “Why do you think more of him for refusing an advantageous offer?”

      “I don’t know that I can explain. Money is not everything – at least, to some people. Shall we go into the house? I need not say that I am glad you are on our side, and doubtless your husband’s scruples” – Lord Grayleigh laid the slightest emphasis on the word, and made it, even to the obtuse ears of his hearer, sound offensive – “even your husband’s scruples of conscience may be overcome by judicious management. A wife can do much on occasions of this sort, and also a friend. He and I are more than acquaintances – we are friends. I have a hearty liking for Ogilvie. It is a disappointment not to have him here, but