I did not like to, but he insisted. I described in as few words as possible my agony of mind after parting with him, and then my determination to find Anastasia, who, according to his own saying, was to come by the next train. I told him once again how I ran away and how I reached the railway station, and how the train came in and Lady Carrington spoke to me, as also did Sir John, but there was no Anastasia, and then Aunt Penelope came up, and--and--I remembered no more. "You were a troublesome little mite that day," said my father, kissing me as he spoke, and pinching my cheek. "Well do I recall the frenzy your poor aunt was in, and the telegrams and messages that came for me; well do I recollect the hunt I had for Anastasia, and how at last I found her and brought her to see you, and how you quieted down when she sat by your bedside. Well do I remember how often I sat there, too." "I remember it, too," I said, "only very dimly, just like a far-off dream. But, father, dear father, why didn't Anastasia stay?" "Your aunt would not have her, child." "And why didn't you stay? Why did you come when I could not recognise you and keep away when I could?" "_Noblesse oblige_," was his answer, and he hung his head a little and looked depressed. But just then there came a rustling, cheerful sound in the passage outside, and Lady Helen, her dress as gorgeous as it was the night before, with a very _outré_ picture hat, fastened at one side of her head, and with her eyes as bright as two stars, entered the room. She floated rather than walked up to father's side, took his two hands, then dropped them, and said, in her high-pitched, very staccato voice: "How do you do, Major? You see, I could not wait, but have come for the dear little _ingénue_. I am quite ready to take you off, Heather, and to supply you with the very prettiest clothes. Your father has given me _carte blanche_ to do as I please--is not that so, Major?" "Yes," answered my father, bowing most gallantly and looking like the very essence of the finest gentleman in the land. "I shall be glad to leave Heather in such good hands. You will see that she is simply dressed, and--oh, I could not leave the matter in better hands. By the way, Lady Helen, I have had a letter this morning from Lady Carrington; she wants the child to lunch with her. Will you add to your many acts of goodness by dropping her at Prince's Gate not later than one o'clock?" "Certainly," said Lady Helen. "I shall have lunch ready for you, dear friend," said my father, "at a quarter past one precisely at the Savoy." "Ah, how quite too sweet!" said Lady Helen. She gave the tips of her fingers to father, who kissed them lightly, and then she desired me to fly upstairs and put on my hat and jacket. When I came down again, dressed to go out, I found Lady Helen and father standing close together and talking in low, impressive tones. The moment I entered the room, however, they sprang apart, and father said: