out of delight came from her when she saw Lord
Grayleigh coming down the drive. He called the coachman to stop and
put out his head.

"Jump into the carriage, Sib, I have not seen you for some time. When
are you going to pay me another visit at Grayleigh Manor?"

"Oh, some time, but not at present," replied Sibyl. "I am too happy
with mother here to think of going away. Isn't Silverbel sweet, Lord
Grayleigh?"

"Charming," replied Grayleigh. "Is your mother in, little woman?"

"I think so. She is very incited about the bazaar. Are you coming to
the bazaar?"

"I don't know, I will tell you presently."

Sibyl laid her little hand in Lord Grayleigh's. He gave it a squeeze,
and she clasped it confidingly.

"Do you know that I am so monstrous happy I scarcely know what to do,"
she said.

"Because you have got a pretty new place?"

"No, no, nothing of that sort. It's 'cos father is coming back afore
long! He will cable, whatever that means, and soon afterward he'll
come. I'm always thanking Lord Jesus about it. Isn't it good of Him to
send my ownest father back so soon?"

Lord Grayleigh made no answer, unless an uneasy movement of his feet
signified a sense of discomfort. The carriage drew up at the porch and
he alighted. Sibyl skipped out after him.

[Illustration: "Shall I find mother for you?" asked Sibyl, leading
Lord Grayleigh across the lawn.--Page 208. _Daddy's Girl_.]

"Shall I find mother for you?" she said. "Oh, there she is on the
lawn. Darlingest mother, she can think of nothing at present but the
bazaar, when all the big-wigs are to be present. You're a big-wig,
aren't you? I asked nurse what big-wigs were, and she said people with
handles. Mother said they were people in a _good social position_.
I remember the words so well 'cos I couldn't understand 'em, but when
I asked Miss Winstead to 'splain, she said mother meant ladies and
gentlemen, and when I asked her to tell me what ladies and gentlemen
was, she said people who behaved nicely. Now isn't it all very
puzzling, 'cos the person who I think behaves nicest of all is our
footman, Watson. He has lovely manners and splendid impulses; and
perhaps the next nicest is dear Mrs. Holman, and she keeps a toy-shop
in a back street. But when I asked mother if Watson and Mrs. Holman
were big-wigs, she said I spoked awful nonsense. What do you think,
Lord Grayleigh? Please do try to 'splain."

Lord Grayleigh had laughed during Sibyl's long speech. He now