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“What did you say?”

“Well, after a bit I pulled myself together and I said: ‘My dear little girl, what is this? What do you mean about your big sister Sarah?’ Edward, I could not bring myself to say that idiotic Solly. In fact, I did think I must be mistaken and had not heard correctly. But Content just looked at me as if she thought me very stupid. ‘Solly,’ said she. ‘My sister’s name is Solly.’

“‘But, my dear,’ I said, ‘I understand that you had no sister.’

“‘Yes,’ said she, ‘I have my big sister Solly.’

“‘But where has she been all the time?’ said I.

“Then Content looked at me and smiled, and it was quite a wonderful smile, Edward. She smiled as if she knew so much more than I could ever know, and quite pitied me.”

“She did not answer your question?”

“No, only by that smile which seemed to tell whole volumes about that awful Solly’s whereabouts, only I was too ignorant to read them.

“‘Where is she now, dear?’ I said, after a little.

“‘She is gone now,’ said Content.

“‘Gone where?’ said I.

“And then the child smiled at me again. Edward, what are we going to do? Is she untruthful, or has she too much imagination? I have heard of such a thing as too much imagination, and children telling lies which were not really lies.”

“So have I,” agreed the rector, dryly, “but I never believed in it.” The rector started to leave the room.

“What are you going to do?” inquired Sally.

“I am going to endeavor to discriminate between lies and imagination,” replied the rector.

Sally plucked at his coat-sleeve as they went down-stairs. “My dear,” she whispered, “I think she is asleep.”

“She will have to wake up.”

“But, my dear, she may be nervous. Would it not be better to wait until to-morrow?”

“I think not,” said Edward Patterson. Usually an easy-going man, when he was aroused he was determined to extremes. Into Content’s room he marched, Sally following. Neither of them saw their small son Jim peeking around his door. He had heard — he could not help it — the conversation earlier in the day between Content and his mother. He had also heard other things. He now felt entirely justified in listening, although he had a good code of honor. He considered himself in a way responsible, knowing what he knew, for the peace of mind of his parents. Therefore he listened, peeking around the doorway of his dark room.

The electric light flashed out from Content’s room, and the little interior was revealed. It was charmingly pretty. Sally had done her best to make this not altogether welcome little stranger’s room attractive. There were garlands of rosebuds swung from the top of the white satin-papered walls. There were dainty toilet things, a little dressing table decked with ivory, a case of books, chairs cushioned with rosebud chintz, windows curtained with the same.

In the little white bed, with a rose-sprinkled cover-lid over her, lay Content. She was not asleep. Directly, when the light flashed out, she looked at the rector and his wife with her clear blue eyes. Her fair hair, braided neatly and tied with pink ribbons, lay in two tails on either side of her small, certainly very good face. Her forehead was beautiful, very white and full, giving her an expression of candor which was even noble. Content, little lonely girl among strangers in a strange place, mutely beseeching love and pity, from her whole attitude toward life and the world, looked up at Edward Patterson and Sally, and the rector realized that his determination was giving way. He began to believe in imagination, even to the extent of a sister Solly. He had never had a daughter, and sometimes the thought of one had made his heart tender. His voice was very kind when he spoke.

“Well, little girl,” he said, “what is this I hear?”

Sally stared at her husband and stifled a chuckle.