hough she was in
trouble. "Never mind that other verse now, nursie, it's not that I'm
thinking of, it's the one you found about 'God resisteth the proud,
and giveth grace to the humble.' It seems to 'splain things."

"What things, dear?"

"Why, about mother. Nursie, isn't my mother quite the very humblest
woman in all the world?"

"Oh, my goodness me, no!" exclaimed the woman under her breath. "I
wouldn't remark it, my dear," she said aloud.

"That's 'cos you know so very little. You can't never guess what my
ownest mother said to me to-day, and I'm not going to tell you, only
that verse comforts me, and I understand now."

Sibyl got up and asked nurse to take off her pink frock. She felt
quite cheerful and happy again. She knelt down in her white nightdress
and said her prayers. She always prayed for her father and mother in a
peculiar way. She never asked God to give them anything, they had
already got all that heart could wish. They were beautiful in person,
they were lovely in character, they were perfect in soul. She could
only thank God for them. So she thanked God now as usual.

"Thank You, Jesus, for giving me father and mother," said Sibyl, "and
in especial for making my mother just so truly perfect that she is
humble. She does not like me to think too much of her. It is because
she is humble, and You give grace to the humble. It is a great comfort
to me, Jesus, to know that, because I could not quite understand my
mother afore dinner. Good-night, Jesus, I am going to sleep now; I am
quite happy."

Sibyl got into bed, closed her eyes, and was soon sound asleep.

On the following Monday Lord Grayleigh went to town, and there he had
a rather important interview with Philip Ogilvie.

"I failed to understand your letter," he said, "and have come to you
for an explanation."

Ogilvie was looking worried and anxious.

"I thought my meaning plain enough," he replied, "but as you are here,
I will answer you; and first, I want to put a question to you. Why do
you wish me to be the assayer?"

"For many reasons; amongst others, because I wish to do you a good
turn. For your position you are not too well off. This will mean
several thousands a year to you, if the vein is as rich as we hope it
will be. The alluvial we know is rich. It has washed at five ounces to
the ton."

"But if there should not happen to be a rich vein beneath?" queried
Ogilvie, and as he spoke he watched his companion narrowly.

Lord