assayer in London. Has the
letter come yet? Has Lord Grayleigh yet offered you the post?"

"The letter has come."

"You would make thousands a year out of it. Phil, oh, Phil, how happy
I am! You have replied, have you not?"

"I have."

"Then why do you keep me in suspense? It is settled. What are you so
glum about?"

"I have declined the offer. I cannot assay the Lombard Deeps Gold
Mine."

"Philip!" His wife's voice was at first incredulous, then it rose into
a scream.

"You cannot be speaking the truth," she said.

"My answer is posted. I am not too scrupulous about small things, but
I draw the line at a matter of that sort. Go to bed."

She did not speak for a moment, her face turned pale, then she went
close up to him.

"I hate you," she said; "go your own way in the future," and she left
him standing silent.

CHAPTER III.

Sibyl and her mother went to Grayleigh Manor on the following
Saturday. Sibyl was wild with excitement. Nurse was going, of course,
to look after her, but Miss Winstead was to remain at home. Sibyl felt
that she could manage nurse, but there were moments when Miss Winstead
was a little obstinate. She would have a delightful time now in the
country with her perfect mother. Of course, there was the pain of
parting with father, who was just as perfect, if not a little more so.
In her heart of hearts Sibyl felt that she understood her father, and
that there were times when she did not quite understand her mother;
but, never mind, her mother was the perfection of all feminine beauty
and loveliness, and grace and goodness, and her father was the
perfection of all masculine goodness and nobility of character. Sibyl
in her heart of hearts wished that she had been born a boy.

"I am much more like a boy than a girl," she thought, "and that is why
I understand father so well. But it will be lovely going to the
country with mother, my ownest mother. I expect I'll have great fun;
and, as mother doesn't care so very much whether I am perfect or not,
perhaps I can be a little naughty on my own account. That will be
lovely. I can't be really naughty with father, it is impossible;
father is so very tall up, and has such grand thoughts about things;
but I can with mother."

So Sibyl watched the packing of her dainty frocks and gay sashes and
pretty ribbons, and then ran down to the smoking-room to kiss and hug
her father.

Ogilvie was very grave and silent, and did not say a word, no