“I am much better,” she said; “I didn’t understand, but I understand now. I got his letter.”
“Must we talk about it to-night, Sibyl?” asked her mother.
“Not much; there’s not much to say, is there? He said I was to be good and to obey you. I was to be good all the time. It’s very hard, but I ’spect I’ll do it; I ’spect Lord Jesus will help me. Mother, why has father gone to Queensland? It’s such a long, long way off.”
“For a most excellent reason,” said Mrs. Ogilvie. “You really are showing a great deal of sense, Sibyl. I never knew you more sensible about anything. I was afraid you would cry and make scenes and be naughty, and make yourself quite ill; that would have been a most silly, affected sort of thing to do. Your father has gone away just on a visit—we will call it that. He will be back before the summer is over, and when he comes back he will bring us——”
“What?” asked the child. “What has he gone for?”
“My dear child, he has gone on most important business. He will bring us back a great deal of money, Sibyl. You are too young yet to understand about money.”
“No, I am not,” said Sibyl. “I know that when people have not much money they are sorrowful. Poor Mr. Holman is.”
“Who in the world is Mr. Holman?”
“He sells the toys in the back street near our house. I am very much obliged to you, mother, for that sovereign. Mr. Holman is going to send me some dusty toys to-morrow.”