to town by the next train," said Lord Grayleigh; but
Mrs. Ogilvie did not hear him. She went quickly away to join the
friends who were waiting for her in the sunny garden.

"Lord Grayleigh has come," she said. "He is quite devoted to Sibyl; he
is sitting with her for a few minutes; the child worships him.
Afterward he and I must have a rather business-like conversation."

"Then we will go, dear Mrs. Ogilvie," said both ladies.

"Thank you, dear friends; I hope you don't think I am sending you
away, but it is always my custom to speak plainly. Lord Grayleigh will
be our principal patron at the bazaar, and naturally I have much to
consult him about. I will drive over to-morrow to see you, Mrs. Le
Strange, and we can discuss still further the sort of stall you will
have."

The ladies took their leave, and Mrs. Ogilvie paced up and down in
front of the house. She was restless, and presently a slight sense of
disappointment stole over her, for Lord Grayleigh was staying an
unconscionably long time in Sibyl's room.

Sibyl and he were having what he said afterward was quite a straight
talk.

"I am so glad you have come," said the little girl; "there are some
things you can tell me that no one else can. Have you heard from
father lately?"

"I had a cablegram from him not long ago."

"What's that?"

"The same as a telegram; a cablegram is a message that comes across
the sea."

"I understand," said Sibyl. She thought of her pretty fancy of the
phantom ships that took her night after night to the breast of her
father.

"What are you thinking about?" said Lord Grayleigh.

"Oh, about father, of course. When he sent you that message did he
tell you there was much gold in the mine?"

"My dear child," said Lord Grayleigh, "what do you know about it?"

"I know all about it," answered Sybil. "I am deeply interested,
deeply."

"Well, my dear little girl, to judge from your father's message, the
mine is full of gold, quite full."

"Up to the tip top?"

"Yes, you can express it in that way if you like, up to the tip top
and down, nobody knows how deep, full of beautiful yellow gold, but
don't let us talk of these things any more. Tell me how you really
fell, and what that naughty pony did to you."

"You must not scold my darling nameless pony, it was not his fault a
bit," said Sibyl. She turned first red and then whiter than usual.

"Do you greatly mind if I _don't_ talk about it?" she asked in a voice
of sweet ap