"Really," said Mrs. Ogilvie, "you do look nice in that dress, it fits you very well. Turn round, and let me see how it is made at the back. Ah! I told Mademoiselle Leroe to make it in that style; that little watteau back is so very becoming to small girls. Turn round now slowly, and let me get the side view. Yes, it is a pretty dress; be sure you don't mess it. You are to come down with the other children to dessert. You had better go now, I am tired." "But Mummy--Mumsy!" "Don't call me Mummy or Mumsy, say mother. I don't like abbreviations." "What's that?" asked Sibyl, knitting her brows. "Mummy or Mumsy are abbreviations of a very sacred name." "Sacred name!" said Sibyl, in a thoughtful tone. "Oh yes, I won't call you anything but mother. Mother is most lovely." "Well, I hope you will be a good child, and not annoy me as you have been doing." "Oh, mother darling, I didn't mean to vex you, but it was such a temptation, you know. You were never, never tempted, were you, mother? You are made so perfect that you cannot understand what temptation means. I did so long to climb the trees, and I knew you would not like me spoil my pretty frock, and Freda lent me the brown holland. When I saw you, Mums--I mean, mother--I forgot about everything else but just that I had climbed a tree, and that I had been brave, although for a minute I felt a scrap giddy, and I wanted to tell you about what I had done, my ownest, most darling mother." Mrs. Ogilvie sprang suddenly to her feet. "Come here," she said. There was a sharpness in her tone which arrested the words on Sibyl's lips. "Look at me, take my hand, look steadily into my face. I have just five minutes to spare, and I wish to say something very grave and important, and you must listen attentively." "Oh, yes, mother, I am listening; what is it?" "Look at me. Are you attending?" "Yes, I suppose so. Mother, Freda says she will give me a Persian kitten; the Persian cat has two, such beauties, snow-white. May I have one, mother?" "Attend to me, and stop talking. You think a great deal of me, your mother, and you call me perfect. Now show that you put me in high esteem." "That sounds very nice," thought Sibyl to herself. "Mother is just in her most beautiful humor. Of course I'll listen." "I wish," continued the mother, and she turned slightly away from the child as she spoke, "I wish you to stop all that nonsense about your father and me. I wish you to understand that we are not perfect, either of us; we are just everyday, ordinary sort of people. As we happen to be your father and mother, you must obey us and do what we wish; but you make yourself, and us also, ridiculous when you talk as you do. I am perfectly sick of your poses, Sibyl." "Poses!" cried Sibyl; "what's poses?"