"But I prefer my own name," I answered. "I don't want to have your name. Father, please speak--father, I am not Heather Dalrymple!" "Oh, make no fuss about it, child," replied my father. "I have long ago come to the wise conclusion that nothing wears one out like making a fuss. Now, my dear, good, sweet, little Heather, I grieve to have to tell you that your disposition promises to land you in old age before your time. You fuss about everything. You fussed yourself almost into your grave when I was obliged to leave you with Penelope Despard, and yet how good poor old Pen was to you all the time! And then you were very impolite to your new mother when you heard that I was about to be married." "Oh, I am willing to forget and forgive all that," said Lady Helen. "The child was young and taken by surprise. We enter to-day a new world. I do my best for her; she must do her best for me. If you are a good girl, Heather, you will see what a happy life you will have as my daughter." "Please, please, father," I said, suddenly, "may I have Anastasia to be my maid? There is a girl upstairs who calls herself Morris, and she says she is my maid, but I really do want Anastasia back." "Ask her ladyship, and do it in a pretty way," said my father, and he gave my hand a playful pinch. "And this carpet," muttered Lady Helen. "I particularly said that the carpet was to be of a pale green, that sort of very soft green which sets off everything, and it is--goodness gracious!--it is a sort of pale blue, not even the tone of the curtains. How atrocious! Yes, Heather, yes--what is it?" "I do want to ask you, please," I said, "if Anastasia may come back?" "Anastasia?" said Lady Helen. "I have never heard of her. Who is she?" "She used to be my nurse when I was in India, and she sailed with father and me in the good ship _Pleiades_. Oh, father! don't you remember the charm you gave me, and how we talked of gentle gales and prosperous winds? And, father, here's the charm, the dear old charm!" "When you talk to me," said Lady Helen, "you will have the goodness to look at me. You want the woman--what did you say her name was?" "Anastasia. It's quite a nice name," I answered. "I want her to be my maid instead of Morris." "To be your maid?" "Please, please, Lady Helen." "Can she sew? Can she make blouses? Can she arrange hair fashionably? Can she put on your dress as it ought to be put on? I may as well say at once that I don't intend to take a pale, gawky girl about with me. You must look nice, as you can and will, if you have a proper maid, and I attend to your clothes. Can she alter your dresses when they get a little _outré_? In short, is the woman a lady's maid at all?" "She used to be my nurse, and I love her," I answered stoutly.