you, Miss Winstead. When the child's father
returns and finds that you have acted as you have done you will
have to answer to him. I wash my hands of the matter."

Mrs. Ogilvie went out on to the lawn.

"The day is improving," she thought. She glanced up at the sky. "It
certainly is miserable at home, and every one talks nonsense about
Sibyl. I shall really take a drive and go and see the Le Stranges. I
cannot stand the gloom of the house. The dear child is getting better
fast, there is not the least doubt of it, and why Phil should talk as
he does, and in particular why he should speak as if we were paupers,
is past bearing. Lose Silverbel! I certainly will not submit to that."

So the much aggrieved wife went round in the direction of the stables,
gave orders that the pony trap was to be got ready for her, and soon
afterward was on her way to the Le Stranges. By the time she reached
that gay and somewhat festive household, she herself was as merry and
hopeful as usual.

Meantime Miss Winstead took the Holmans upstairs.

"You must be prepared for a very great change," said Miss Winstead,
"but you will not show her that you notice it. She is very sweet and
very happy, and I do not think anyone need be over-sorry about her."

Miss Winstead's own voice trembled. The next moment she opened the
door of the Chamber of Peace, and the old-fashioned pair from whom
Sibyl had bought so many dusty toys stood before her.

"Eh, my little love, and how are you, dearie?" said Mrs. Holman. She
went forward, dropped on her knees by the bed, and took one of Sibyl's
soft white hands. "Eh, dearie, and what can Mrs. Holman do for you?"

"How do you do, Mrs. Holman?" said Sibyl, in her weak, but perfectly
clear voice; "and how do you do, Mr. Holman? How very kind of you both
to come to see me. Do you know I love you very much. I think of you so
often. Won't you come to the other side of the bed, Mr. Holman, and
won't you take a chair? My voice is apt to get tired if I talk too
loud. I am very glad to see you both."

"Eh! but you look sweet," said Mrs. Holman.

Mr. Holman now took his big handkerchief and blew his nose violently.
After that precautionary act he felt better, as he expressed it, and
no longer in danger of giving way. But Mrs. Holman never for a single
instant thought of giving way. She had once, long ago, had a child of
her own--a child who died when young--and she had sat by that dying
child's bed and never once gi