At last I mounted the little hill which led to Hill View, Aunt Penelope's house. I wondered if the same Jonas would open the door for me who had parted with me with many tears on the morning when I had gone with such a light heart to join my father in London. I reached the little brown house. It looked exactly the same as ever, only that, of course, the spring flowers were coming out. There were a great many ranunculuses in the garden, and the irises were coming out of their sheaths and putting on their purple bloom, and there were heaps and heaps of tulips of different shades and colour. These were real flowers; these were the sort that I loved, the sort that Vernon Carbury would love if he saw them. These were very different from the hothouse roses and the flowers of rare beauty which decorated Lord Hawtrey's house.
I walked up the path which led to the front door with the confident step of a girl who is returning home; I rang the door bell. At first there was silence, no one replied to my summons; then a head was pushed out of a door down the area, there was a muffled exclamation, and somebody came scampering up the stairs, and there—yes, there—was the old Jonas waiting for me!
"Jonas," I said, "don't you know me?"
"Miss Heather," he answered. His face grew scarlet, and then turned very white; the next minute, forgetting altogether his position, he took both my hands and dragged me into the house.
"Was it in answer to the big prayer that you've come?" he said. "Speak, and speak at once. I'm a Methody, I be. I had a big prayer last night; I wrestled with the Lord for you to come back. Was it in answer to that you come?"
"Perhaps so, I don't know—who can tell? Oh, Jonas! is anything wrong?"
"Stop knocking at the door!" shouted a familiar voice, and then I gave a scream, half of pleasure, half of pain, and dashed into the parlour and went up to Polly. I could not be afraid of her any longer, and although she was not at all a friendly bird to me, and never had been during all the years I had lived with her, yet she was so far subdued at present that she allowed me to ruffle the feathers on the top of her grey head.
"Where's Aunt Penelope?" I said then, turning to Jonas.
"Upstairs in bed. The doctor he come and the doctor he goes and I do what I can, but 'tain't much. She's off her feed and she's off her luck, and she's in bed. She's got me in to tidy up this morning, she did so. She said, 'Jonas, it ain't correct, but it must be done; you bring in your broom and tea leaves and sweep up,' she said, 'and then dust,' she said, 'and I will lie buried under the clothes, so that you won't see a bit of my head. It's quite a decent thing to do when it's done like that, Jonas; and don't make any bones about it, for it's to be done.' So I done her up as best I could, and oh, my word! the room did want it badly. There now, that's her bell. Doctor says she should stay in bed and not stir, but she hears voices, and she's that mad with curiosity. Doctor thinks maybe she's going; doctor don't like her state, but I does the best I can. I'm getting her beef-tea ready for her now, Miss Heather, and maybe you'll take it up to her. It's you she's been fretting for; she's never held up her head since you went, but don't you go to suppose she spoke of you. No, she never once did. But her head—she never kept it up. Don't you fret about her, Miss Heather; you have come back, and it's in answer to prayer. Now then, come along with me into the kitchen. I'll shout at her to let her know I'm here, but I'll not mention your name. Coming, ma'am—heating up the beef-tea—coming in a twink! There, Miss Heather, she'll know now I'm coming, and you—you get along to the kitchen as fast as you can and watch me, to see as I does it right."
I went with Jonas to the little old-world kitchen. He really was not a bad boy, this present Jonas, for the kitchen, seeing that its mistress was so long out of it, was fairly clean, and his attempt at making beef-tea was fairly good, after all. While Jonas was warming the beef-tea and making a tiny piece of toast, I removed my hat and jacket and smoothed my hair, and when the refreshment was ready I took it upstairs with me, up and up the narrow, short flight of creaking stairs. I passed my own tiny bedroom, and there was Aunt Penelope's room, facing the stairs. I opened the door very softly and stood for a second on the threshold.