"I wish you would leave the child alone," said Ogilvie in an annoyed voice; "she is good enough for me, little pet, and I would not have her altered for the world. But now, Mildred, to return to our cause of dissension before dinner, we must get this matter arranged. What do you mean to do about your invitation to Grayleigh Manor?" "I have given you my views on that subject, Philip; I am going." "I would much rather you did not." "I am sorry." Mrs. Ogilvie shrugged her shoulders. "I am willing to please you in all reasonable matters; this is unreasonable, therefore I shall take my own way." "It is impossible for me to accompany you." "I can live without you for a few days, and I shall take the child." "Sibyl! No, I do not wish it." "I fear you must put up with it. I have written to say that Sibyl and I will go down on Saturday." Ogilvie, who had been seated, now rose, and went to the window. He looked out with a dreary expression on his face. "You know as well as I do the reasons why it would be best for you not to go to Grayleigh Manor at present," he said. "You can easily write to give an excuse. Remember, we were both asked, and the fact that I cannot leave town is sufficient reason for you to decline." "I am going," said Mrs. Ogilvie. Her eyes, which were large and dark, flashed with defiance. Ogilvie looked at her with a frown between his brows. "Is that your last word?" he inquired. "It is, I go on Saturday. If you were not so disagreeable and disobliging you could easily come with me, but you never do anything to please me." "Nor you to please me, Mildred," he was about to say, but he restrained himself. After a pause he said gently, "There is one thing that makes the situation almost unbearable." "And what is that?" she asked. "The attitude of little Sibyl toward us both. She thinks us--Mildred, she thinks us perfect. What will happen to the child when her eyes are opened?" "Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof," was Mrs. Ogilvie's flippant remark. "But that attitude is much encouraged by you. You make her morbid and sensitive." "Morbid! Sibyl morbid! There never was a more open-hearted, frank, healthy creature. Did you not hear her say at dinner that she would not be a flabby good girl for anything? Now, I must tell you that perhaps wrong as that speech was, it rejoiced my heart." "And it sickened me," said Mrs. Ogilvie. "You do everything in your power to make her eccentric. Now, I don't wish to have an eccentric daughter. I wish to have a well brought up girl, who will be good while she is young, speak properly, not make herself in any way remarkable, learn her lessons, and make a successful _debut_ in Society, all in due course." "With a view, doubtless, to a brilliant marriage," added the husband, bitterly. "I am going to knock all of this nonsense out of Sibyl," was his wife's answer, "and I mean to begin it when we get to Grayleigh Manor."