Aunts -- Fiction; England -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Fathers and daughters -- Fiction; Love stories; Stepmothers -- Fiction
"Then I'd better not--better not, you know." He exchanged glances with
Lady Carrington, and I noticed a delicate wave of colour filling her
smooth and still girlish cheeks. She went away the next moment, and left
father and me alone.
"Well, pussy cat," he said, looking down at me, "what is the meaning of
all this rebellion? I didn't know you were such a queer little girl."
"Oh, father!" I said.
"Well, here is father. What does the little one want him to do?"
"Pet me, pet me, pet me," I said, and I gave a great sob between each
word.
"Why, Heather, you are as great a baby as ever! Lady Helen says you are
the most babyish creature she has ever come across in her life. My word,
Heather, if you but knew it, you are in luck to have such a stepmother.
I tell you, my child, you are in wonderful luck, for she is downright
splendid!"
"Please--please--may I say something?" My voice shook violently.
"Of course you may, little mite."
"Don't let us talk of her to-night. I'll try very hard to be good
to-morrow, if you will promise not to speak of her once to-night."
"It's hard on me, for my thoughts are full of her, but I'll endeavour to
obey your small Majesty."
Then I sprang into his arms, and cuddled him round the neck, and kissed
his cheek over and over again.
"Oh, I am so hungry for your love!" I said.
"Poor mite! You will have two people to love instead--oh! I
forgot--'mum's' the word. Now then, Heather, let's look at you. Why,
you're a washed-out little ghost of a girl! Even Aunt Penelope would be
shocked if she saw you now."
"Never mind Aunt Penelope just for the present," I said. "I have so
much to say to you, and this is the very last evening."
"Not a bit of it; there are hundreds of other evenings to follow."
"Oh, no," I said; "this is the very last between you and me, quite to
ourselves, Daddy."
"I like to hear you say 'Daddy'--you have such a quaint little voice. Do
you know, Heather, that when I was--when I was--"
"When you were what, Daddy?"
"Never mind; I was forgetting myself. I have lived through a great deal
since you last saw me, child, since that time when you were so ill at
Penelope Despard's."
"Weren't you enjoying yourself during those long years in India, Daddy?"
"Enjoying myself? Bless you, the discipline was too severe." Here my
father burst out laughing, and then he unfastened my arms from his neck
and put me gently down on the sofa and began to pace the room.
"As a wild beast enjoys himself in a cage, so did I, little Heather; but
it's over, thank Heaven, it's over; and--oh, dash it!--I can't speak of
it! Heather, how do you like your new clothes?"
"I haven't any new clothes," I answered demurely, "except the little
black frock you gave me the night I came to you at the Westminster
hotel. I put that on every evening because Lady Carrington wears
something pretty at dinner-time."
"But what have you done with all your other clothes?"
"I told you, Daddy, I wouldn't wear them. _She_ gave them to me."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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