Daddy's Girl Part 30

"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.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "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 laid his hand on her arm.

"A big-wig is quite an ugly word," he said, "but a lady or a gentleman, you will find them in all ranks of life."

"You haven't 'splained a bit," said the little girl. "Mother wants big-wigs at her bazaar; you are one, so will you come?"

"I will answer that question after I have seen your mother."

Lord Grayleigh crossed the lawn, and Sibyl, feeling dissatisfied, turned away.

"He doesn't look quite happy," she thought; "I'm sorry he is coming to take up mother's time. Mother promised, and it's most 'portant, to ride with me this evening. It's on account of poor Dan Scott it is so 'portant. Oh, I do hope she won't forget. Perhaps Miss Winstead would come if mother can't. I promised poor Dan a basket of apples, and also that I'd go and sit with him, and mother said he should cert'nly have the apples, and that she and I would ride over with them. He broke his arm a week ago, poor fellow! poor little Dan! I'll go and find Miss Winstead. If mother can't come, she must."

Sibyl ran off in search of her governess, and Lord Grayleigh and Mrs.

Ogilvie, in deep conversation, paced up and down the lawn.

"You didn't hear by the last mail?" was Lord Grayleigh's query.

"No, I have not heard for two mails. I cannot account for his silence."

"He is probably up country," was Lord Grayleigh's answer. "I thought before cabling that I would come and inquire of you."

"I have not heard," replied Mrs. Ogilvie. "Of course things are all right, and Philip was never much of a correspondent. It probably means, Lord Grayleigh, that he has completed his report, and is coming back. I shall be glad, for I want him to be here some time before October, in order to see about paying the rest of the money for our new place. What do you think of Silverbel?"

"Oh, quite charming," said Lord Grayleigh, in that kind of tone which clearly implied that he was not thinking about his answer.

"I am anxious, of course, to complete the purchase," continued Mrs.

Ogilvie.

"Indeed!" Lord Grayleigh raised his brows.

"Mr. Acland lent me two thousand pounds to pay the deposit," continued the lady, "but we must complete by the end of October. When my husband comes back rich, he will be able to do so. He will come back rich, won't he?" Here she looked up appealingly at Lord Grayleigh.

"He will come back rich, or we shall have the deluge," he replied, oracularly. "Don't be uneasy. As you have not heard I shall cable. I shall wire to Brisbane, which I fancy is his headquarters."

"Perhaps," answered Mrs. Ogilvie, in an abstracted tone. "By the way, if you are going back to town, may I make use of your carriage? There are several things I want to order for my bazaar. It is to be in about a fortnight now. You will remember that you are one of the patrons."

"Certainly," he answered; "at what date is the bazaar to be held?"

She named the arranged date, and he entered it in a gold-mounted engagement book.

"I shall stay in town to-night," continued Mrs. Ogilvie. "Just wait for me a moment, and I will get on my hat."

Soon afterward the two were driving back to the railway station. Mrs.

Ogilvie had forgotten all about her engagement to Sibyl. Sibyl saw her go off with a feeling of deep disappointment, for Miss Winstead had a headache, and declined to ride with the little girl. Dan Scott must wait in vain for his apples. But should he wait? Sibyl wondered.

She went down in a discontented way to a distant part of the grounds.

She was not feeling at all happy now. It was all very well to have a heart bubbling over with good-nature and kindly impulses; but when those impulses were flung back on herself, then the little girl felt that latent naughtiness which was certainly an integral part of her character. She saw Dan Scott's old grandfather digging weeds in the back garden. Dan Scott was one of the gardener's boys. He was a bright, cheery-faced little fellow, with sloe-black eyes and tight-curling hair, and a winsome smile and white teeth. Sibyl had made friends with him at once, and when he ceased to appear on the scenes a week back, she was full of consternation, for Dan had fallen from a tree, and broken his arm rather badly. He had been feverish also, and could not come to attend to his usual work. His old grandfather had at first rated the lad for having got into this trouble, but then he had pitied him.

Sibyl the day before had promised old Scott that she and her mother would ride to Dan's cottage and present him with a basket of early apples. There were some ripening now on the trees, long in shape, golden in color, and full of delicious juice.

Sibyl had investigated these apples on her own account, and p.r.o.nounced them very good, and had thought that a basket of the fruit would delight Dan. She had spoken to her mother on the subject, and her mother, in the height of good-humor, had promised that the apples should be gathered, and the little girl and she would ride down a lovely country lane to Dan's cottage. They were to start about six o'clock, would ride under the shade of some spreading beech trees, and come back in the cool of the evening.

The whole plan was delightful, and Sibyl had been thinking about it all day. Now her mother had gone off to town, and most clearly had forgotten her promise to the child.

"Well, Missy," said old Scott as he dug his spade deep down into the soil; "don't stand just there, Missy, you'll get the earth all over you."

Sibyl moved to a respectful distance.

"How is Dan?" she asked, after a pause.

"A-wrastling with his pain," answered Scott, a frown coming between his brows.

"Is he expecting me and mother with the beautiful apples?" asked Sibyl, in a somewhat anxious tone.

"Is he expecting you, Missy?" answered the old man, raising his beetling brows and fixing his black eyes on the child. "Is he a-counting the hours? Do ducks swim, Missy, and do little sick boys a-smothered up in bed in small close rooms want apples and little ladies to visit 'em or not? You said you'd go, Missy, and Dan he's counting the minutes."

"Of course I'll go," replied Sibyl, but she looked anxious and _distrait_. Then she added, "I will go if I possibly can."

"I didn't know there was any doubt about it, Missy, and I tell you Dan is counting the minutes. Last thing he said afore I went out this morning was, 'I'll see little Missy to-day, and she is to bring me a basket of apples.' Seems to me he thinks a sight more of you than the fruit."

Sibyl turned pale as Scott continued to speak in an impressive voice.

"Dear, dear, it is quite dreadful," she said, "I could cry about it, I could really, truly."

"But why, Missy? What's up? I don't like to see a little lady like you a-fretting."

"Mr. Scott, I'm awfully, awfully sorry; I am terribly afraid I can't go."

Old Scott ceased to delve the ground. He leant on the top of his spade and looked full at the child. His sunken eyes seemed to burn into hers.

"You promised you'd go," he said then slowly.

"I did, I certainly did, but mother was to have gone with me, and she has had to go to town about the bazaar. I suppose you couldn't take back the apples with you when you go home to-night, Mr. Scott?"

"I could not," answered the old man. He began to dig with l.u.s.ty and, in the child's opinion, almost venomous vigor.