"Now, what is it?" said a cantankerous voice. "Jonas, you're off your head. It's just because I admitted you to my bedroom to-day to sweep and dust. But come in, don't be shy. There is nothing against your coming into the room with an old lady. You can lay the tray on the table and walk out again without looking at me." "It isn't Jonas," I said, standing half-hidden by the door, "it's--it's--Heather. I have come back, auntie." The moment I said the words I went right in. Aunt Penelope drew herself bolt upright in bed. She did look a very withered, very ill, and very neglected old lady. Her face was hard and stern, but in her eyes that moment there burnt the light of love. Those eyes looked straight into mine. "Heather, you're back?" "Yes, of course I am, auntie, and now you must take your beef-tea and tell me all about everything. How are you, darling, and why did you get ill, and why did you never write or send for your own child, Heather?--and, oh! you have been naughty! But I have come back, and I mean to stay for just as long as you want me." "Then that will be for ever and ever, Amen," said Aunt Penelope. She laid her hot, dry old hand in mine, and she raised her face for me to kiss her. I stooped and did so, and then I said, almost sternly, for it was my turn now to take the upper hand-- "You will have to allow me to wait on you; and you're not to talk at all, nor to expect any news from me whatsoever, until you have had your beef-tea, and until I have made you comfortable. Dear, dear, you do want your child Heather, very badly, auntie." "Badly," said Aunt Penelope. "I wanted you, Heather, unto death--unto death, but _he_ said that you were to come when the season was over. I counted that perhaps you'd come in August. It's only May now, and the season has just begun. I counted for August, although I scarcely expected to live." "No more talking," I said, trying to be stern, although it was very difficult, and then I sat on the edge of the bed and watched Aunt Penelope as she sipped her beef-tea and ate some morsels of toast. I forgot myself as I watched her. My own sufferings seemed to be far away and of no consequence. My tired heart settled down suddenly into a great peace. I was home once more. CHAPTER XVI When Aunt Penelope had finished her little meal, I proceeded to get fresh linen from the linen cupboard upstairs, and fresh, clean towels; I also went down to the kitchen and brought up a big can of hot water, and then I proceeded to wash her face and hands and to change her linen and make her bed, and altogether refresh the dear old lady. How I loved doing these things for her! I felt quite happy and my own trouble receded into the background with this employment. When I had done all that was necessary, the doctor, the same who had attended me so often in my childish ailments, came in. He was delighted to see me, and gave me a most hearty welcome.