“What would you like best in the world?”
“Oh, best in the whole world? But I cannot have that, not for a week—we are going home this day week.”
“And what will you have when you go home?”
“Father’s kiss every night. He always comes up, Lord Grayleigh, and tucks me in bed, and he kisses me, and we have a cozy talk. He never misses, never, when he is at home. I am lonesome here, Lord Grayleigh, because mother does not think it good for me that she should come; she would if she thought it good for me.”
“Well,” said Lord Grayleigh, who for some reason did not feel quite comfortable as Sibyl talked of her father’s kisses, “we must find something for you, not quite the best thing of all. What would be the next best?”
“I know,” said Sibyl, laughing, “a Shetland pony; oh, I do want one so badly. Mother sometimes rides in the Park, and I do so long to go with her, but she said we couldn’t afford it. Oh, I do want a pony.”
“You shall have one,” said Lord Grayleigh; “it shall be my present to a very good, charming little girl.”
“Do you really think I am good?”
“Good? Excellent; you are a pattern to us all.”