ruth itself. She is not exactly a
pretty child, and she has a peculiar appearance, but she does certainly
look truthful and good, and she looked so then. She had tried to fluff
her hair over her forehead a little as I had told her, and not pull it
back so tight, and she wore her new dress, and her face and hands were
as clean, and she stood straight. You know she is a little inclined to
stoop, and I have talked to her about it. She stood straight, and looked
at me with those blue eyes, and I did feel fairly dizzy."

"What did you say?"

"Well, after a bit I pulled myself together and I said: 'My dear little
girl, what is this? What do you mean about your big sister Sarah?'
Edward, I could not bring myself to say that idiotic Solly. In fact, I
did think I must be mistaken and had not heard correctly. But Content
just looked at me as if she thought me very stupid. 'Solly,' said she.
'My sister's name is Solly.'

"'But, my dear,' I said, 'I understand that you had no sister.'

"'Yes,' said she, 'I have my big sister Solly.'

"'But where has she been all the time?' said I.

"Then Content looked at me and smiled, and it was quite a wonderful
smile, Edward. She smiled as if she knew so much more than I could ever
know, and quite pitied me."

"She did not answer your question?"

"No, only by that smile which seemed to tell whole volumes about that
awful Solly's whereabouts, only I was too ignorant to read them.

"'Where is she now, dear?' I said, after a little.

"'She is gone now,' said Content.

"'Gone where?' said I.

"And then the child smiled at me again. Edward, what are we going to do?
Is she untruthful, or has she too much imagination? I have heard of such
a thing as too much imagination, and children telling lies which were
not really lies."

"So have I," agreed the rector, dryly, "but I never believed in it." The
rector started to leave the room.

"What are you going to do?" inquired Sally.

"I am going to endeavor to discriminate between lies and imagination,"
replied the rector.

Sally plucked at his coat-sleeve as they went down-stairs. "My dear,"
she whispered, "I think she is asleep."

"She will have to wake up."

"But, my dear, she may be nervous. Would it not be better to wait until
to-morrow?"

"I think not," said Edward Patterson. Usually an easy-going man, when
he was aroused he was determined to extremes. Into Content's room
he marched, Sally following. Neither of them saw their sm