ay, as they stood in
the porch watching Bab's plump legs waddling along the drive in an
effort to keep pace with Effie's longer strides.

"No," replied Sylvia, "not nearly so much as having tea with you."

"Why don't you care for your friends, sweetheart?"

"Because I like being with you and Father better. That's the very
whole of the reason. Anybody else is such a bother!"

Mrs. Lindsay smoothed the fluffy hair, which was hanging in some
disorder after an uproarious game of Fox and Goose, and bent down to
kiss the little face that turned up so readily to meet her own.

"My precious pet!" she murmured fondly.

But Aunt Louisa shook her head.

CHAPTER II

An Important Decision

"Gordon," said Mrs. Lindsay to her husband on the following evening,
when he was enjoying his after-dinner cup of coffee in the
drawing-room, and she judged him to be in a suitable mood to discuss
knotty problems, "I am not at all happy about Sylvia."

Mr. Lindsay paused to take an extra lump of sugar, and to help himself
deliberately to some more cream.

"Why, what's wrong with the child?" he asked. "I thought she was
looking much as usual to-day."

"She looks quite well," replied Mrs. Lindsay; "but I don't feel
satisfied, all the same."

"Try a fresh tonic," suggested her husband, stretching himself lazily
in his chair as he spoke.

"A tonic would be of absolutely no use."

"Then you had better send for Dr. Fergusson to-morrow, and let him see
her; it's as well to take things in time."

"It's not a case for Dr. Fergusson, yet it has been distressing me for
some months. Louisa was here yesterday, and she noticed it also, and
spoke to me most seriously about it."

"Really, Blanche, you alarm me! What's the matter with Sylvia? If Dr.
Fergusson can do no good we must take her to a specialist."

"It's not her body, Gordon, it's her mind. She's a dear child, but
she's growing so old-fashioned and sedate, she's more like a little
old woman than a girl of scarcely eleven. Louisa says it's most
unhealthy."

"I wish Louisa would mind her own business," said Mr. Lindsay,
frowning; "I can't see anything amiss with Sylvia. I think her
old-fashioned ways are particularly charming."

"Yet they are not natural at her age. She's living in a world of
dreams and make-believe. Books are all very well, but it's not good
for her to be entirely buried in them."

"She has a strong imagination," replied Mr. Lindsay, "a thing Louisa
c