There are all kinds of first things one can look back upon; I mean by that the first things of all. There is the little toddling journey across the floor, with father's arms stretched out to help one, and mother's smile to greet one when the adventurous journey is over. And there are other baby things, of course. Then there come the big things which one can never forget.

My big thing arrived when I was eight years old. I came home with father from India. Father's name was Major Grayson, and I was called Heather. I was petted a great deal on board ship, and made a fuss about, and, in consequence, I made a considerable fuss about myself and gave myself airs. Father used to laugh when I did this and catch me in his arms and press me close to his heart, and say:

"My dearest little Heather, I can quite perceive that you will be a most fascinating woman when you grow up."

I remember even now his words, and the look on his face when he said these things, but as I did not in the least comprehend them at the time, I merely asked in my very pertest voice for the nicest sweetmeats he could procure for me, on which he laughed more than ever, and, turning to his brother officers, said:

"Didn't I say so? Heather will take the cake some time."

I suppose at that period of my life there was no one in the wide world whom I loved as I did father. There was my nurse, but I was not specially devoted to her, for she was fond of teasing me and sticking pins into my dress without being careful with regard to the points. When I wriggled and rushed away from her she used to say that I was a very naughty and troublesome child. She never praised me nor used mysterious words about me as father did, so, of course, I clung close to him.

I very, very dimly remembered my mother. As I have just said, my first memory of all was running across the nursery floor and being caught by my father, and my mother smiling at me. I really cannot recall her after that, except that I have a very dim memory of being, on one occasion, asked to stoop down and kiss her. My father was holding me in his arms at the time, and I stooped and stooped and pressed my lips to hers and said: "Oh, how cold!" and shuddered and turned away. I did not know then that she was dead. This fact was not told me until long afterwards.

We had a most prosperous voyage home on board the Pleiades, with never a storm nor any unpleasant sea complication, and father was in high spirits, always chatting and laughing and playing billiards and making himself agreeable all round, and I was very much petted, although one lady assured me that it was on account of father, who was such a very popular man, and not because I was little Heather Grayson myself.

By and by the voyage came to an end, and we were safe back in old England. We landed at Southampton, and father took Anastasia and me to a big hotel for the night. Anastasia, my nurse, and I had a huge room all to ourselves. It did look big after the tiny state cabin to which I had grown accustomed.

Anastasia was at once cross and sorrowful, and I wondered very much why she was not glad to be back in old England. But when I asked her if she were glad, her only answer was to catch me to her heart and kiss me over and over again, and say that she never, oh never! meant to be unkind to me, but that her whole one desire was to be my dearest, darling "Nana," and that she hoped and prayed I would ever remember her as such. I thought her petting almost as tiresome as her crossness, so I said, in my usual pert way:

"If you are really fond of me, you won't stick any more pins in me," when, to my amazement, she burst into a flood of tears.

Now I had a childish horror of tears, and ran out of the room. What might have happened I do not know; whether I should have lost myself in the great hotel, or whether Anastasia would have rushed after me and picked me up and scolded me, and been more like her old self, and forbidden me on pain of her direst displeasure to ever leave her side without permission, I cannot tell. But the simple fact was that I saw father in the corridor of the hotel, and father looked into my face and said:

"Why, Heather, what's the matter?"

"It's Anastasia who is so queer," I said; "she is sorry about something, and I said, 'If you are sorry you will never stick pins in me again' – and then she burst out crying. I hate cry-babies, don't you, Daddy?"

"Yes; of course I do," replied my father. "Come along downstairs with me, Heather."

He lifted me up in his arms. I have said that I was eight years old, but I was a very tiny girl, made on a small and neat scale. I had little, dark brown curls, which Anastasia used to damp every morning and convert into hideous rows of ringlets, as she called them. I was very proud of my "ringerlets," as I pronounced the word at that time, and I had brown eyes to match my hair, and a neat sort of little face. I was not the least like father, who had a big, rather red face and grey hair, which I loved to pull, and kind, very bright, blue eyes and a big mouth, somewhat tremulous. I used to wonder even then why it trembled.

He rushed downstairs with me in his usual boisterous fashion, while I laughed and shouted and told him to go faster and faster, and then he entered a private sitting-room and rang the bell, and told the man who appeared at his summons that dinner was to be served for two, and that Miss Heather Grayson would dine with her father. Oh, didn't I feel proud – this was an honour indeed!

"I need not go back to the cry-baby, then, need I?" I said.

"No," replied my father; "you need not, Heather. You are to stay with me."

"Well, let's laugh and be very jolly," I said. "Let me be a robber, pretending to pick your pockets, and you must lie back and shut your eyes and pretend to be sound, sound asleep. You must not even start when I pull your diamond ring off your finger. But, I say – oh, Daddy! – where is your diamond ring?"

"Upstairs, or downstairs, or in my lady's chamber," replied Daddy. "Don't you bother about it, Heather. No, I don't want to play at being burgled to-night. Sit close to me; lay your little head on my breast."

I did so. I could feel his great heart beating. It beat in big throbs, now up, now down, now up, now down again.

Dinner was brought in, and I forgot all about the ring in the delight of watching the preparations, and of seeing the grand, tall waiter laying the table for two. He placed a chair at one end of the table for father, and at the other end for me. This I did not like, and I said so. Then father requested that the seats should be changed and that I should sit, so to speak, in his pocket. I forget, in all the years that have rolled by, what we had for dinner, but I know that some of it I liked and some I could not bear, and I also remember that it was the dishes I could not bear that father loved. He ate a good deal, and then he took me in his arms and settled me on his knee, sitting so that I should face him, and then he spoke.

"Heather, how old are you?"

I was accustomed to this sort of catechism, and answered at once, very gravely:

"Eight, Daddy."

"Oh, you are more than eight," he replied, "you are eight and a half, aren't you?"

"Eight years, five months, one week, and five days," I said.

"Come, that is better," he said, his blue eyes twinkling. "Always be accurate when you speak. Always remember, please, Heather, that it was want of accuracy ruined me."

"What is ruined?" I asked. "What in the world do you mean?"

"What I say. Now don't repeat my words. You will be able to think of them by and by."

I was silent, pondering. Daddy was charming; there never was his like, but he did say puzzling things.

"Now," he said, looking full at me, "what do you think I have come to England for?"

I shook my head. When I did not know a thing I invariably shook my head.

"I have come on your account," he replied.

"On mine, Daddy?"

"Yes. I am going back again to India in a short time."

"Oh, what fun!" I answered. "I love being on board ship."

He did not reply at all to this.

"Why don't you speak?" I said, giving his grizzled locks a lusty tug.

"I am thinking," was his answer.

"Well, think aloud," I said.

"I am thinking about you, Heather. Have you ever by any chance heard of a lady called Aunt Penelope?"

"Never," I answered. "Aunt Penelope – Aunt Penelope – what is an aunt, Daddy?"

"Well, there is an Aunt Penelope waiting to see you in old England, and I am going to take you down to her to-morrow. She is your aunt – listen – think hard, Heather – use your brains – because she is your mother's sister."

"Oh!" I answered. "Does that make an aunt?"

"Yes, that makes an aunt; or if she were your father's sister she would also be your aunt."

I tried to digest this piece of information as best I could.

"I am taking you to her to-morrow, and you must learn to love her as though she were your mother."

I shook my head.

"I can't," I said.

"Well, don't think about it," was Daddy's reply. "Love her, without knowing that you love her. I believe she is a very good woman."

"I 'spect so," I said. "I don't much care for good womens."

As a rule I spoke quite correctly, but when excited I did make some lapses.

"Well, that's all," said father, suddenly putting me down on the floor. "Run up to bed now and to sleep. You will see Aunt Penelope to-morrow; you will like her very much. I have brought you all the way to England in order that you might see her."

I was a bit sleepy, and it was very late for me to be up. So I kissed Daddy two or three times and ran upstairs all alone. Anastasia was waiting for me at the head of the stairs.

"Anastasia," I shouted, "we are going to have a real jolly time. We are going to Aunt Penelope to-morrow. She is aunt because she is mother's sister; she would be aunt, too, if she was father's sister. I wonder how many people she is aunt to? Is she your aunt, Anastasia?"

"No, my dear child," said Anastasia, in quite a gentle tone.

"And isn't it fun, Anastasia?" I continued. "Daddy has brought me all the way to England just to see Aunt Penelope, and we are going back to India almost immediately – Daddy said so."

"Said what, Miss Heather?"

"That we were going back to India almost – almost at once. Isn't it just lovely? You will come too, of course, only you might remember about the pins."

Anastasia, who had placed me on a little chair, now went abruptly to the fire and stirred it into a brilliant blaze. I stared at it as a child will who has seldom seen fires. Anastasia stood with her back to me for a long time, even after she had done poking the fire, and when she turned round I thought her eyes looked funny.

"Are you going to cry again?" I said. "I don't like cry-babies."

"Of course not, Miss Heather. Now let me undress you."

A minute later I was in bed, the firelight playing on the walls. The bed was big and warm and soft. I felt tired and very happy. I dropped into profound slumber. When I awoke it was broad daylight, and Anastasia was shaking me.

"Get up, miss," she said. "If you want to be off in time you must be stirring."

"Oh, hurrah!" I answered. "This is Aunt Penelope's day. Are we all going, Anastasia? And when we go, shall I ask her at once if she is your aunt, too?"

"Now, for goodness' sake, stay still, Miss Heather, while I tie your things. You are such an awful fidget."

I was dressed in an incredibly short space of time, and I had eaten a good breakfast, and Anastasia had taken me by the hand and brought me downstairs. Daddy was waiting for me in the hall, and he looked very big and broad and important. He went up to Anastasia and said a few words to her, and I think he slipped something into her hand, but I am not sure. She turned abruptly and walked away, and I said:

"Where is she going, father?"

"Never mind."

Then we got into a cab, and I said:

"But where's Anastasia?"

"Oh, if she's quick we may meet her at the railway station," said father; "and if she is slow she must come on by the next train."

"Oh, dear, what a nuisance!" I answered. "I did want her to come with us."

"It all depends upon whether she is quick or slow," said father.

"Well, at any rate," I answered, with a child's easy acceptance of a situation which she cannot understand, "it is lovely to go to Aunt Penelope."

We reached the railway station. Anastasia was slow – she was nowhere to be seen. Father said, in his cheerful voice:

"All right, little woman, she'll catch the next train." And then we found ourselves facing each other in two padded compartments of a first-class carriage, and the train moved out of the station, and we were off. There happened to be no one else in the carriage, but Daddy was very silent, and almost pale, for him. Once he said, bending towards me and speaking abruptly:

"Promise me one thing?"

"Yes, Daddy," I answered.

"You will never think badly of me whatever you hear?"

Now this was such a queer speech that I could not in the least understand it, but I answered at once, in the queer sort of metaphor that a child might use:

"I would not think badly of you, father, if the world rocked."

He kissed me two or three times after I said this, and so far recovered his usual self that he allowed me to sit on his knee and play with his watch chain. I was greatly taken with a little charm he wore, and when I said I liked it he told me that it had once belonged to a great idol in one of the most marvellous temples in the historic town of Delhi. He said it was supposed to be a charm and to bring luck, and then he detached it from his chain and slipped it on to a narrow gold chain which I wore round my neck. He told me to keep it always, for it was certain to bring luck. I said:

"What's luck?"

He answered: "Fair gales and a prosperous sail."

I nodded my head satisfactorily at that, and said:

"Then I will wear it, and you and me, Daddy" – I went wrong again with my grammar – "will have fair gales and a prosperous sail when we are returning to India."

He thrust his head out of the carriage window when I said this, and when he put it back again I noticed that for some reason his face was as red as ever.

Aunt Penelope's name was Penelope Despard, and she lived in a pretty little place outside a pretty little town about fifty miles away from Southampton. We got out at the station, which was called Cherton, and there a cab awaited us, which had evidently been sent by order, and some luggage was put on the roof. I was too excited by then to make any comment with regard to the luggage, although I noticed it afterwards and observed that it was all marked "H. G.," and there was nothing marked "G. G.," for father's name was Gordon Grayson. I said to father, as we got into the cab:

"I do wonder when Anastasia's train will arrive." And he said:

"So do I. I must make inquiries presently." But although I expected him to make these inquiries at once he did not do so, and the cab started off in the direction of Miss Despard's cottage.

Miss Penelope Despard lived in a little house with a little garden attached. The little house went by the name of Hill View, and the garden and tiny lawn were very pretty and very neatly kept. But I was accustomed to big things – that is, except on board ship, when, of course, I had the sea to look at, which seemed to go on for ever and ever. So I was not excited about Aunt Penelope's garden. Father's face continued to be very red. He held my hand and took me up the neatly-kept gravel walk, and pushed a very brightly-polished brass button, which was instantly answered by a neat-looking boy, with a perfectly round face, in buttons.

"Is Miss Despard in?" asked father. And then a lady in spectacles came out of a room at one side of a narrow hall, and father said:

"Hallo, Penelope! It is years since we met, and, Penelope, this is Heather. Heather, my darling, here is your Aunt Penelope."

"I hope you are a good child and do what you are told always," said Aunt Penelope.

She spoke in a very prim voice, and stooping down, kissed me, hurting my face as she did so with the rim of her spectacles. I disliked her on the spot and told her so with the frank eyes of a child, although I was not quite rude enough to utter any words by my lips.

"Well, Gordon," said my aunt, "you were a little late, and I was beginning to fear that you had missed your train. We shall just have time to arrange everything before you return to Southampton."

"I am going to London to-night," said father.

"Well, well, it really doesn't matter to me. Child, don't stare."

I looked away at once. There was a parrot in a cage, and the parrot said, in his shrill voice at that moment: "Stop knocking at the door."

I burst into a peal of laughter and ran towards him. I was about to approach his cage with my finger, when Aunt Penelope said:

"He bites."

I did not want him to bite my finger, for his beak was so sharp. So I said:

"Please, Aunt Penelope, are you aunt also to Anastasia?"

"I have never heard of her," said Aunt Penelope. "Little girls should be seen and not heard."

At that moment the parrot again shouted out, "Stop knocking at the door," and I was so amused by him that I did not mind Aunt Penelope. After all, nothing much mattered, for I would be going to London immediately with Daddy.

I stood and stared at the parrot, hoping much that he would speak again. The parrot cocked his head to one side and looked at me, but he did not utter a word.

"Speak, oh! do speak," I said in a whisper; the parrot turned his back on me.

Aunt Penelope said, "Sit down, Heather."

CHAPTER II

A few minutes later we went into another room to lunch. It was a very small room, smaller than many of the state cabins on board the good ship Pleiades. There was a little table in the centre of the room, and there were places for three laid at the table. Opposite to me was a milk pudding, and opposite to Aunt Penelope was a tureen of soup, and opposite to Daddy I really forget what. The boy in buttons came up and helped me to a portion of pudding.

"I don't like it," I said at once. "Take it away, please, boy."

Aunt Penelope said: "Leave the pudding where it is, Jonas. Heather, my dear, you must invariably eat what is put before you. I consider milk pudding proper food for little girls, and had this made on purpose for you."

"But I hate milk puddings, Aunt Penelope," I answered, "and I never, never eat them."

"The child is accustomed to feed as I do," said my father, speaking in a harsh, grating sort of voice, and avoiding my eyes.

"Well, in future," said Aunt Penelope, "she will eat as I want her to eat. I must bring her up in my way or not at all, Gordon."

"Eat your pudding like a darling," said my father, and as Aunt Penelope had really made a most silly speech, for father and I were leaving for London almost immediately, I ate the horrid pudding just to please him.

When lunch was finished, Aunt Penelope went up to father and spoke to him. He nodded, and I noticed that his face was very pale. Then he said:

"Perhaps so; perhaps it is the best thing." Then, all of a sudden, he stooped and took me in his arms and pressed me very, very close to his heart, and let me down on the floor rather suddenly. The next minute he had taken half-a-crown out of his pocket.

"Your Aunt Penelope and I want to have a little private talk," he said, "and I was thinking that you might – or rather your aunt was thinking that you might – go out for a walk with Buttons."

"His name is Jonas," said Aunt Penelope.

"I beg his pardon – with Jonas – and he will take you to a toy shop. You have never seen any English toys, and you might buy a new doll with this."

"I'd like to buy some sort of toy," I answered, "but I don't want dolls – I hate them. Can I buy a parrot, do you think, and would he talk to me? I'd rather like that, and it would be great, great fun to have him when we are sailing back with gentle gales and a prosperous sail to darling India."

"Well, go and buy something, darling," said father, and I nodded to him brightly and went out of the room.

Buttons, as I continued to call him in my own heart, for I could not get round his other name of Jonas, was really quite agreeable. He took me away to a high part of the town and very far from the shops, and on to a wild stretch of moor; here he told me all kinds of extraordinary stories about rats and cats and mice and caterpillars. He confided the fact to me that he kept white mice in his attic bedroom, but that if Miss Despard found it out he would be sent about his business on the spot. He implored me to be extremely secret with regard to the matter, and I naturally promised that I would.

"You need not fear, Buttons," I said. "Ladies, who are true ladies, never repeat things when they are asked not."

"And you are a real, true lady, missy," was his answer.

He further promised to enlighten me with regard to the method of producing silk from silk-worms, and told me what fun it was to wind the silk off the big yellow cocoons.

"I think," I said, "I should like that very much, for if I got a big lot I should have enough silk to make a yellow silk dress for Anastasia."

"Whoever's she?" asked Buttons.

"I believe, Buttons," I said, dropping my voice, "that Aunt Penelope is really aunt to her, too, and she is coming on by the next train. She is very nice when she is not a cry-baby, and when she doesn't stick pins into you. She has a somewhat yellow complexion, so, of course, the yellow silk dress would suit her."

"Yes, miss, I am sure of that," said Buttons.

He took me so far that I began to get tired, and the sun was going down behind the hills when we returned to the town. We had very nearly reached the little house of Hill View when I remembered Daddy's half-crown, and that I had never bought a toy.

"It's too late to-day, miss," said Buttons, "but you can come out walking with me to-morrow and we can get it then."

I laughed.

"I can get it in London, I expect," I said. "London's a great big place. Oh, I do hope," I continued, "that I haven't been keeping darling Daddy waiting!"

When Buttons opened the little gate of Hill View I ran up the neatly-kept avenue and pounded with my hands on the glass panels of the door. It was Aunt Penelope herself who opened it.

"Where's Daddy?" I said. "Am I late? Oh, I hope I am not! And has Anastasia come?"

Aunt Penelope looked quite gentle. She took my hand and led me into the drawing-room. The drawing-room was bigger than the dining-room, but was still a very tiny room.

"Now, Heather," she said, "I have something to say to you."

"Where's Daddy? I want Daddy," I said. "Where is he?"

I began to tremble for fear of I did not know what. The terror of something hitherto unknown came over me.

"He sent you his best love and his good-bye, and he will come and see you again before he sails."

Aunt Penelope tried to speak kindly, although she had not by nature a kind voice. I stared at her with all my might and main.

"He went away without me?" I said.

"He had to, dear. Now, Heather, I can quite understand that this is a trial for you, but you've got to bear it. Your father will come and see you again before he returns to India, and meanwhile you are my little girl and will live with me."

I stood perfectly still, as though I were turned into stone. Aunt Penelope put out her hand to touch me, and just at that moment the parrot cried, "Stop knocking at the door!" Aunt Penelope tried to draw me towards her, she tried to lift me on to her knee.

"Come," she said, "come – be a good little girl. I shall try to be good to you."

I raised my hand and slapped her with extreme violence on the face.

"I hate you and all aunts, and I will never, never be good to you or to anyone!"

And then, somehow or other, I think I lost consciousness, for I cannot remember, even after this lapse of years, what immediately followed.