"But this is private," said Mr. Ogilvie, "only her father and mother." Mrs. Ogilvie glanced at a footman who stood not far off, and who was in vain endeavoring to suppress a smile. "I washed my doll's clothes, although nurse told me not," continued Sibyl, "and I made a mess in the night nursery. I spilt the water and wetted my pinny, and I _would_ open the window, although it was raining. I ran downstairs, too, and asked Watson to give me a macaroon biscuit. He wasn't to blame--Watson wasn't." The unfortunate footman whose name was now introduced hastily turned his back, but his ears looked very red as he arranged some glasses on the sideboard. "Father," whispered Sibyl, "do you know that Watson has got a sweetheart, and----" "Hush! hush!" said Mr. Ogilvie, "go on with your confessions." "They're rather sad, aren't they, father? Now I come to think of it, they are very, very sad. I didn't do one right thing to-day 'cept to make myself pretty. Miss Winstead was so angry, and so was nurse, but when I am with them I don't mind a bit being naughty. I wouldn't be a flabby good girl for all the world." "Oh, Angel, what is to become of you?" said her father. Sibyl looked full at him, her eyes sparkled, then a curious change came into them. He was good--perfect; it was lovely to think of it, but she felt sure that she could never be perfect like that. All the same, she did not want to pain him. She slipped her small hand into his, and presently she whispered: "I'll do anything in all the world to please you and mother and Lord Jesus." "That is right," said the father, who gave a swift thought at the moment to the temptation which he knew was already on its way, and which he would never yield to but for the sake of the child. The rest of the dinner proceeded without many more remarks, and immediately afterwards Sibyl kissed both her parents and went upstairs. "Good-night, little Spring," said her father, and there was a note of pain in his voice. She gave him an earnest hug, and then she whispered-- "Is it 'cos I'm a wicked girl you're sad?" "No," he answered, "you are not wicked, my darling; you are the best, the sweetest in all the world." "Oh, no, father," answered Sibyl, "that is not true. I am not the best nor the sweetest, and I wouldn't like to be too good, 'cept for you. Good-night, darling father." Mr. and Mrs. Ogilvie returned to the drawing-room. "You spoil that child," said the wife, "but it is on a par with everything else you do. You have no perception of what is right. I don't pretend to be a good mother, but I don't talk nonsense to Sibyl. She ought not to speak about nurse and governess before servants, and it is disgraceful of her to drag the footman and his concerns into the conversation at dinner. She ought not, also, to boast about doing naughty things."