Sibyl smiled when he said this, and then she gazed full at him in that
solemn comprehending way which often characterized her. When he went
out of the room she lay silent for a time; then she turned to nurse
and said with emphasis:

"I like old Scott, he's a very religious man."

"That he is, darling," replied nurse.

"Seems to me I'm getting religious too," continued Sibyl. "It's 'cos
of Lord Jesus, I 'spect. He is kind to me, is Lord Jesus. He takes me
to father every night."

The days went by, and Mrs. Ogilvie, who was recovering her normal
spirits hour by hour, now made up her mind that Sibyl's recovery was
merely a question of time, that she would soon be as well as ever, and
as this was the case, surely it seemed a sad pity that the bazaar,
which had been postponed, should not take place.

"The bazaar will amuse the child, besides doing a great deal of good
to others," thought Mrs. Ogilvie.

No sooner had this idea come to her, than she found her
engagement-book, and looked up several items. The bazaar had of course
been postponed from the original date, but it would be easy to have it
on the 24th of September. The 24th was in all respects a suitable
date, and those people who had not gone abroad or to Scotland would be
glad to spend a week in the beautiful country house. It was such a sad
pity, thought Mrs. Ogilvie, not to use the new furniture to the best
advantage, not to sleep in the new beds, not to make use of all the
accessories which had cost so much money, or rather which had cost so
many debts, for not a scrap of the furniture was paid for, and the
house itself was only held on sufferance.

"It will be doing such a good work," said Mrs. Ogilvie to herself. "I
shall be not only entertaining my friends and amusing dear little
Sibyl, but I shall be collecting money for an excellent charity."

In the highest spirits she ran upstairs and burst into her little
daughter's room.

"Oh, Mummy," said Sibyl. She smiled and said faintly, "Come and kiss
me, Mummy."

Mrs. Ogilvie was all in white and looked very young and girlish and
pretty. She tripped up to the child, bent over her and kissed her.

"My little white rose," she said, "you must get some color back into
your cheeks."

"Oh, color don't matter," replied Sibyl. "I'm just as happy without
it."

"But you are quite out of pain, my little darling?"

"Yes, Mummy."

"And you like lying here in your pretty window?"

"Yes, mother darling."