Daddy's Girl Part 21

"Go on; I am bearing it," said Sibyl.

She stood absolutely upright, white as a sheet, her eyes queerly dilated, but her lips firm.

"It's a great shock, but I am bearing it," she said again. "_When_ will I see him?"

Miss Winstead turned now and looked at her.

"Child," she said, "don't look like that."

"I'm looking no special way; I'm only bearing up. Is father dead?"

"No; no, my dear. No, my poor little darling. Oh, you ought to have been told; but he did not wish it. It was his wish that you should have a happy time in the country. He has gone to Queensland; he will be back in a few months."

"A few months," said Sibyl. "He's not dead?" She sat down listlessly on the window seat. She heaved a great sigh.

"It's the little shots that hurt most," she said after a pause. "I wouldn't have felt it, if you had said he was dead."

"Come out, Sibyl, you know now he won't be back by six."

"Yes, I'll go out with you."

She turned and walked very gravely out of the room.

"I'd rather she cried and screamed; I'd rather she rushed at me and tried to hurt me; I'd rather she did anything than take it like that,"

thought the governess.

Sibyl went straight into the nursery.

"Nursie," she said, "my father has gone. He is in Queensland; he did not wish me to be told, but I have been told now. He is coming back in a few months. A few months is like for ever, isn't it, nursie? I am going out with Miss Winstead for a walk."

"Oh, my darling," said nursie, "this has hurt you horribly."

"Don't," said Sibyl, "don't be sympathisy." She pushed nurse's detaining hand away.

"It's the little shots that tell," she repeated. "I wouldn't have felt anything if it had been a big, big bang; if he had been dead, I mean, but I'm not going to cry, I'm not going to let anybody think that I care anything at all. Give me my hat and gloves and jacket, please, nurse."

She went to Miss Winstead, put her hand in hers, and the two went downstairs. When they got into the street Sibyl looked full at her, and asked her one question.

"Was it mother said you was to tell me?"

"Yes."

"Then mother did tell me a----" Sibyl left off abruptly, her poor little face quivered. The suffering in her eyes was so keen that Miss Winstead did not dare to meet them. They went for a walk in the park, and Sibyl talked in her most proper style, but she did not say any of the nice, queer, interesting things she was, as a rule, noted for.

Instead, she told Miss Winstead dry, uninteresting little facts, with regard to her visit to the country.

"I hear you have got a pony," said Miss Winstead.

"I don't want to talk about my pony, please," interrupted Sibyl. "Let me tell you just what were the most perfect views near the place we were in."

"But why may we not talk about your pony?"

"I don't want to ride my pony now."

Miss Winstead was alarmed about the child.

"You have walked quite far enough to-night," she said, "you look very white."

"I'm not a sc.r.a.p tired, I never felt better in my life. Do let us go to the toy-shop."

"A good idea," said the governess, much cheered to find Sibyl, in her opinion, human after all. "We will certainly go there and will choose a beautiful toy."

"Well, this is the turning, come along," said Sibyl.

"But why should we go to Holman's, there is a splendid toy-shop in this street."

"I'd much rather go to Mr. Holman's."

Miss Winstead did not expostulate any further. Presently they reached the shabby little shop. Mr. Holman, the owner of the shop, was a special friend of the child's. He had once or twice, charmed by her sympathetic way, confided some of his griefs to her. He found it, he told her, extremely difficult to make the toy-shop pay; and Sibyl, in consequence, considered it her bounden duty to spend every half-penny she could spare at this special shop. She entered now, went straight up to the counter and held out her hand.

"How do you do, Mr. Holman," she said; "I hope I find you quite well."

"Thank you, Missy; I am in the enjoyment of good health," replied the shopman, flushing with pleasure and grasping the little hand.

"I am glad of that," answered Sibyl. "I have come, Mr. Holman, to buy a big thing, it will do your shop a lot of good. I am going to spend twenty shillings in your shop. What would you like me to buy?"

"You thought a doll's house," interrupted Miss Winstead, who stood behind the child.

"Oh, it don't matter about that," said Sibyl, looking gravely back at her; "I mean it don't matter now. Mr. Holman, what's the most dusty of your toys, what's the most scratched, what's the toy that none of the other children would like?"

"I have a whole heap of 'em," said Holman, shaking his head sadly.

"That he have, poor dear," here interrupted Mrs. Holman. "How do you do, Missy, we are both glad to see you back again; we have had a dull season, very dull, and the children, they didn't buy half the toys they ought to at Christmas time. It's because our shop is in a back street."

"Oh, but it's a very nice street," said Sibyl; "it's retired, isn't it? Well, I'll buy twenty shillings' worth of the most dusty of the toys, and please send them home to-morrow. Please, Miss Winstead, put the money down."

Miss Winstead laid a sovereign on the counter.

"Good-by, Mr. Holman; good-by, Mrs. Holman," said Sibyl. She shook hands solemnly with the old pair, and then went out of the shop.

"What ails her?" said Holman. "She looks as if something had died inside her. I don't like her looks a bit."

Mrs. Ogilvie enjoyed herself very much that evening. Her friends were glad to see her back. They were full of just the pleasant sympathy which she liked best to receive. She must be lonely without her husband. When would he return? When she said in a few months' time, they congratulated her, and asked her how she had enjoyed herself at Grayleigh Manor. In short, there was that sort of fuss made about her which most appealed to her fancy. She forgot all about Sibyl. She looked at other women of her acquaintance, and thought that when her husband came home she would wear just as dazzling gems and just as beautiful dresses, and she, too, might talk about her country place, and invite her friends down to this rural retreat at Whitsuntide, and make up a nice house-party in the autumn, and again in the winter. Oh, yes, the world with its fascinations was stealing more and more into her heart, and she had no room for the best of all. She forgot her lonely child during these hours.

Mrs. Ogilvie returned from a fashionable reception between twelve and one in the morning. Hortense was up and tired. She could scarcely conceal her yawns as she unst.i.tched the diamonds which she had sewn on her mistress's dress earlier in the evening, and put away the different jewels. At last, however, her duties were over, and she went away to her room.

Mrs. Ogilvie got into bed, and closing her eyes, prepared to doze off into delicious slumber. She was pleasantly tired, and no more. As she sank into repose, the house in the country and the guests who would fill it mingled with her dreams. Suddenly she heard a clear voice in her ears. It awoke her with a sort of shock. She raised herself on her elbow, and saw her little daughter standing in her white nightdress by the bedside.

"Mother," said Sibyl.