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.”