So she stopped and looked at Lord Grayleigh with the wistful, puzzled expression which at once repelled and attracted him. His own daughters also drew up, panting. "We were chasing Sib," they said; "she challenged us. She said that, although she does live in town, she could beat us." "And it looked uncommonly like it when I saw you all," was Grayleigh's response. "Sibyl has long legs for her age." Sibyl looked down at the members in question, and put on a charming pout. Grayleigh laughed, and going up to her side, laid his hand on her shoulder. "I saw your father yesterday. Shall I tell you about him?" This, indeed, was a powerful bait. Sibyl's soft lips trembled slightly. The wistful look in her eyes became appealing. "Pathetic eyes, more pathetic than any dog's," thought Lord Grayleigh. He took her hand. "You and I will walk by ourselves for a little," he said. "Run away, children. Sibyl will join you in a few moments." Sibyl, as if mesmerized, now accompanied Lord Grayleigh. She disliked her present position immensely, and yet she wondered if it was given to her by Lord Jesus, as a special opportunity which she was on no account to neglect. Should she tell Lord Grayleigh what she really thought of him? But for her mother she would not have hesitated for a moment, but that mother had been very kind to her during the last two days, and Sibyl had enjoyed studying her character from a new point of view. Mother was polite to people, even though they were not quite perfect. Mother always looked sweet and tidy and ladylike, and beautifully dressed. Mother never romped, nor tore her clothes, nor climbed trees. It was an uninteresting life from Sibyl's point of view, and yet, perhaps, it was the right life. Up to the present the child had never seriously thought of her own conduct at all. She accepted the fact with placidity that she herself was not good. It was rather interesting to be "not good," and yet to live in the house with two perfectly angelic beings. It seemed to make their goodness all the whiter. At the present moment she longed earnestly to be "not good." Lord Grayleigh, holding her hand, advanced in the direction of a summer-house. "We will sit here and talk, shall we?" he said. "Yes, shall us?" replied Sibyl. Lord Grayleigh smiled; he placed himself in a comfortable chair, and motioned Sibyl to take another. She drew a similar chair forward, placed it opposite to her host, and sat on it. It was a high chair, and her feet did not reach the ground. "I 'spect I'm rather short for my age," she said, looking down and speaking in a tone of apology. "Why, how old are you?" he asked. "Quite old," she replied gravely; "I was eight at five minutes past seven Monday fortnight back." "You certainly have a vast weight of years on your head," he replied, looking at her gravely. She did not see the sarcasm, she was thinking of something else. Suddenly she looked him full in the face.