“I am back, and I am going to be good,” she said. “I really, truly am; aren’t you glad to see me?”
“Yes, Sibyl.”
“Go upstairs now, Sibyl,” said her mother. Sibyl obeyed somewhat unwillingly, some of the laughter went out of her eyes, and a little of the excitement faded from her heart. She went up the wide stairs slowly, very slowly. Even now she hoped that it might be possible for her father to appear, turning the angle of the winding stairs, coming out of one of the rooms. He always had such a bright face, there was an eagerness about it. He was tall and rather slender, and that bright look in his eyes always caused the child’s heart to leap; then his mouth could wear such a beautiful smile. It did not smile for many people, but it always did for Sibyl. She wanted to see him, oh, so badly, so badly.
“Well, never mind,” she said to herself, “he can’t help it, the darling; but he’ll be back soon,” and she tripped into her nursery and sat down; but she did not ask Nurse any questions, she was too busy with her own thoughts.
CHAPTER IX.
“Miss Winstead,” said Mrs. Ogilvie, “this is all most unpleasant.”
“What do you mean?” asked the governess.
“Why, this whim of my husband’s. He has been away for over a week, and the child imagines that he is still in London, that he will return at any instant and spoil her, after his usual injudicious fashion.”