om him as if it were
a temptation.

"No, Sib," he said, "you must go back to your mother; it would not be
at all right to leave your mother alone."

"Of course not," she answered promptly, and she gave a sigh which was
scarcely a sigh.

"It would have been nice all the same," said Ogilvie. "Ah! there is
my train; kiss me, darling."

She flung her arms tightly round his neck.

"Sibyl, just promise before I leave you that you will be a good girl,
that you will make goodness the first thing in life. If, for instance,
we were never to meet again--of course we shall, thousands of times,
but just suppose, for the sake of saying it, that we did not, I should
like to know that my little girl put goodness first. There is nothing
else worth the while in life. Cling on to it, Sibyl, cling tight hold
to it. Never forget that I----"

"Yes, father, I will cling to it. Yes, father!"

"That I wish it. You would do a great deal for me?"

"For you and Lord Jesus Christ," she answered softly.

"Then I wish this, remember, and whatever happens, whatever you hear,
remember you promised. Now here's my train, stand back. Good-by,
little woman, good-by."

"I'll see you again very, very soon, father?"

"Very soon," answered the man. He jumped into the carriage, the train
puffed out of the station. A porter came up to Sibyl and spoke to her.

"Anybody come to meet you, Miss?"

"No, thank you," she answered with dignity; "I was seeing my father
off to town; there's my twap waiting outside."

The man smiled, and the little girl went gravely out of the station.

Sibyl went back to Lord Grayleigh's feeling perplexed. There was an
expression about her father's face which puzzled her.

"He ought to have me at home with him," she thought. "I have seen him
like this now and then, and he's mostly not well. He's beautiful when
he talks as he did to-day, but he's mostly not well when he does it. I
'spect he's nearer Lord Jesus when he's not well, that must be it. My
most perfect father wants me to be good; I don't want to be good a
bit, but I must, to please him."

Just then a somewhat shrill and petulant voice called the child.

"My dear Sibyl, where _have_ you been? What are you doing on the
dog-cart? How unladylike. Jump down this minute."

The man pulled up the mare, and Sibyl jumped to the ground. She met
her mother's angry face with a smile which she tried hard to make
sweet.

"I didn't do anything naughty, really, Mummy," s