“What a splendid idea, Sib!” said Mrs. Ogilvie, “you shall dress some dolls for mother’s bazaar.”
“Are you going to have it after all?” cried Sibyl, her eyes brightening. “Are the big-wigs coming?”
“Yes, pet, and you shall help me. You shall dress pretty little dolls which the big-wigs shall buy—Lord Grayleigh and the rest.”
“I like Lord Grayleigh,” replied Sibyl. “I am glad you are going to have the bazaar, Mummy.”
Mrs. Ogilvie laughed with glee. She seated herself in a comfortable rocking chair near the window and chatted volubly. Sibyl was really a wonderfully intelligent child. It was delightful to talk to her. There was no narrowness about Sibyl. She had quite a breadth of view and of comprehension for her tender years.
“My dear little girl,” said Mrs. Ogilvie, “I am so glad you like the idea. Perhaps by the day of the bazaar you will be well enough to come downstairs and even to walk a little.”
Sibyl made no answer to this. After a moment’s pause she said:
“Do have the bazaar and let all the big-wigs come. I can watch them from my bed. I can look out of the window and see everything—it will be fun.”
Soon afterward Mrs. Ogilvie left the room. She met Miss Winstead on the stairs.