“Why, about mother. Nursie, isn’t my mother quite the very humblest woman in all the world?”
“Oh, my goodness me, no!” exclaimed the woman under her breath. “I wouldn’t remark it, my dear,” she said aloud.
“That’s ’cos you know so very little. You can’t never guess what my ownest mother said to me to-day, and I’m not going to tell you, only that verse comforts me, and I understand now.”
Sibyl got up and asked nurse to take off her pink frock. She felt quite cheerful and happy again. She knelt down in her white nightdress and said her prayers. She always prayed for her father and mother in a peculiar way. She never asked God to give them anything, they had already got all that heart could wish. They were beautiful in person, they were lovely in character, they were perfect in soul. She could only thank God for them. So she thanked God now as usual.
“Thank You, Jesus, for giving me father and mother,” said Sibyl, “and in especial for making my mother just so truly perfect that she is humble. She does not like me to think too much of her. It is because she is humble, and You give grace to the humble. It is a great comfort to me, Jesus, to know that, because I could not quite understand my mother afore dinner. Good-night, Jesus, I am going to sleep now; I am quite happy.”
Sibyl got into bed, closed her eyes, and was soon sound asleep.
On the following Monday Lord Grayleigh went to town, and there he had a rather important interview with Philip Ogilvie.
“I failed to understand your letter,” he said, “and have come to you for an explanation.”
Ogilvie was looking worried and anxious.