er.

"I don't think I'd much care," said Sibyl, with a smile. "You'd know
what I meant, wouldn't you, whether I spelt the words right or not?
All the same," she added, "I'll spell right if you wish it--I mean,
I'll try."

"That's a good girl. Now tell me what else you did naughty?"

"When Sibyl talks about her sins, would it not be best for her to do
so in private?" said the mother again.

"But this is private," said Mr. Ogilvie, "only her father and mother."

Mrs. Ogilvie glanced at a footman who stood not far off, and who was
in vain endeavoring to suppress a smile.

"I washed my doll's clothes, although nurse told me not," continued
Sibyl, "and I made a mess in the night nursery. I spilt the water and
wetted my pinny, and I _would_ open the window, although it was
raining. I ran downstairs, too, and asked Watson to give me a macaroon
biscuit. He wasn't to blame--Watson wasn't."

The unfortunate footman whose name was now introduced hastily turned
his back, but his ears looked very red as he arranged some glasses on
the sideboard.

"Father," whispered Sibyl, "do you know that Watson has got a
sweetheart, and----"

"Hush! hush!" said Mr. Ogilvie, "go on with your confessions."

"They're rather sad, aren't they, father? Now I come to think of it,
they are very, very sad. I didn't do one right thing to-day 'cept to
make myself pretty. Miss Winstead was so angry, and so was nurse, but
when I am with them I don't mind a bit being naughty. I wouldn't be a
flabby good girl for all the world."

"Oh, Angel, what is to become of you?" said her father.

Sibyl looked full at him, her eyes sparkled, then a curious change
came into them. He was good--perfect; it was lovely to think of it,
but she felt sure that she could never be perfect like that. All the
same, she did not want to pain him. She slipped her small hand into
his, and presently she whispered:

"I'll do anything in all the world to please you and mother and Lord
Jesus."

"That is right," said the father, who gave a swift thought at the
moment to the temptation which he knew was already on its way, and
which he would never yield to but for the sake of the child.

The rest of the dinner proceeded without many more remarks, and
immediately afterwards Sibyl kissed both her parents and went
upstairs.

"Good-night, little Spring," said her father, and there was a note of
pain in his voice.

She gave him an earnest hug, and then she whispered--

"Is i