," said Sibyl. "May I have some
bread and butter and jam? I'll ask you some things about town, and
perhaps you can't answer me. What's a--what's a--oh, I'll think of
something real slangy presently; but please don't talk to me too much
while I'm eating, or I'll spill jam on my money frock."

"You are a very queer little girl," said Mabel; but she looked at her
now with favor. A child who could talk like Sibyl was likely to be an
acquisition.

"What a silly you are," said Gus. "What did you put on that thing
for? We don't want frilled and laced-up frocks, we want frocks that
girls can wear to climb trees in, and----"

"Climb trees! Oh," cried Sibyl, "are you that sort? Then I'm your
girl. Oh, I am glad! My ownest father would be pleased. He likes me to
be brave. I'm a hoyden--do you know what a hoyden is? If you want to
have a few big larks while I am here, see to 'em quick, for I'm your
girl."

Gus burst into a roar of laughter, and Mabel smiled.

"You are very queer," she said. "I don't know whether our governess
will like our being with you. You seem to use strange words. We never
get into scrapes--we are quite ladylike and good, but we don't wear
grand frocks either. Can't you take that thing off?"

"I wish I could. I hate it myself."

"Well, ask your servant to change it."

"But my nurse hasn't brought a single shabby frock with me."

"Are all your frocks as grand as that?"

"Some of 'em grander."

"We might lend her one of our own brown holland frocks," said Freda.

"Oh, do!" said Sibyl; "that will be lovely."

"We are going to do some climbing this afternoon, so you may as well
put it on," continued Freda.

Sibyl clapped her hands with delight. "It's a great comfort coming
down to this place," she said finally, "'cos I can give way a little;
but with my father and mother I have to keep myself in."

"Why?"

"It's mostly on account of my most perfect of fathers."

"But isn't Philip Ogilvie your father?" said Gus.

"Mr. Ogilvie," corrected Sibyl, in a very proud tone.

"Oh, fudge! I heard father call him Philip Ogilvie. He's not perfect."

Sibyl's face turned white; she looked full at Gus. Gus, not observing
the expression in her eyes, continued, in a glib and easy tone:

"Father didn't know I was there; he was talking to another man. I
think the man's name was Halkett. I'm always great at remembering
names, and I heard him say 'Philip Ogilvie will do what we want. When
it comes to the poin