are. Here, give me your hand."

Mrs. Ogilvie stretched out her own warm hand and took one of Sibyl's.
Sibyl's little hand was cold.

"May I come quite close to you, mother?" asked Sibyl.

"Yes, darling."

The next instant she was lying in her mother's arms. Her mother
clasped her close to her breast and kissed her many times.

"Oh, now that's better," said the child with a sob. It was the first
attempt at a sob which had come from her lips. She nestled cosily
within her mother's clasp.

"I am much better," she said; "I didn't understand, but I understand
now. I got his letter."

"Must we talk about it to-night, Sibyl?" asked her mother.

"Not much; there's not much to say, is there? He said I was to be good
and to obey you. I was to be good all the time. It's very hard, but I
'spect I'll do it; I 'spect Lord Jesus will help me. Mother, why has
father gone to Queensland? It's such a long, long way off."

"For a most excellent reason," said Mrs. Ogilvie. "You really are
showing a great deal of sense, Sibyl. I never knew you more sensible
about anything. I was afraid you would cry and make scenes and be
naughty, and make yourself quite ill; that would have been a most
silly, affected sort of thing to do. Your father has gone away just on
a visit--we will call it that. He will be back before the summer is
over, and when he comes back he will bring us----"

"What?" asked the child. "What has he gone for?"

"My dear child, he has gone on most important business. He will bring
us back a great deal of _money_, Sibyl. You are too young yet to
understand about money."

"No, I am not," said Sibyl. "I know that when people have not much
money they are sorrowful. Poor Mr. Holman is."

"Who in the world is Mr. Holman?"

"He sells the toys in the back street near our house. I am very much
obliged to you, mother, for that sovereign. Mr. Holman is going to
send me some dusty toys to-morrow."

"What do you mean?"

"I can't 'splain, Mr. Holman understands. But, mother, I thought we
had plenty of money."

"Plenty of money," echoed Mrs. Ogilvie; "that shows what a very silly
little child you are. We have nothing like enough. When your father
comes back we'll be rich."

"Rich?" said Sibyl, "rich?" She did not say another word for a long
time. Her mother really thought she had dropped asleep. In about half
an hour, however, Sibyl spoke.

"Is it nice, being rich?" she asked.

"Of course it is."

"But what does it d