“Not copy my ownest mother? What do you mean, father?”
“Well, well, darling, God will look after you, I do believe. You are not far from Him, are you, Sib? You know we call you the Angel. Angels are supposed to have their home in heaven.”
“Well, my home is right down here on earth,” said Sibyl in a very contented tone. “I’ll have a real jolly time away, I ’spect.”
“I hope there will be some nice little boys and girls there with whom you can play; and go to bed early, Sib, just for father’s sake, and don’t forget to pray for me.”
“I will, I will,” said the child; “I always thank God for you because he made you so beautiful and good.”
“Well, I am busy now; go to bed, little woman.”
That was the last Sibyl saw of her father before she went away, for he did not go to see his wife and daughter off, and Mrs. Ogilvie looked decidedly cross as they stepped into the train. But they soon found themselves at Grayleigh Manor.
Sibyl and her nurse were hurried off to the nursery regions, very much to the little girl’s secret indignation, and Mrs. Ogilvie seemed to be swept into a crowd of people who all surrounded her and talked eagerly and laughed noisily. Sibyl gave them a keen glance out of those very blue eyes, and in her heart of hearts thought they were a poor lot.
She and nurse had two nice rooms set apart for their own special use, a sitting-room and a sleeping-room, and nurse proceeded to unpack the little girl’s things, and then to dress her in one of her prettiest frocks.