Just then a somewhat shrill and petulant voice called the child.
“My dear Sibyl, where have you been? What are you doing on the dog-cart? How unladylike. Jump down this minute.”
The man pulled up the mare, and Sibyl jumped to the ground. She met her mother’s angry face with a smile which she tried hard to make sweet.
“I didn’t do anything naughty, really, Mummy,” she said. “Father took me to the station to say good-by. He’s off back to town, and he took me with him, and I came back on the twap.”
“Don’t say twap, sound your ‘r’—trap.”
“Tw-rap,” struggled Sibyl over the difficult word.
“And now you are to go into the house and ask Nurse to put on your best dress. I am going to take you to a garden party, immediately after lunch. Mr. Rochester and Lady Helen Douglas are coming with us. Be quick.”
“Oh, ’licious,” said Sibyl. She rushed into the house, and up to the nursery. Nurse was there waiting to deck her in silk and lace and feathers. The little girl submitted to her toilet, and now took a vast interest in it.
“You must make me quite my prettiest self,” she said to the nurse; “you must do your very best, ’cos mother——”