"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.