"I know you have been good to me, and I have been many times a naughty girl to you, but, you see, father comes first, and if he wants me I am going to him."
"I thought you would say so. Your ingratitude is past bearing."
"Fathers always do come before aunts, don't they?" I asked.
"Oh, please don't become childish again, Heather. Go out and get the tea. I am tired of the want of proper feeling of the present day. Do you know that this morning Jonas broke that valuable Dresden cup and saucer that I have always set such store by? It has spoiled my set."
"What a shame," I answered. And I went into the kitchen to prepare the tea.
The Jonas of that day was a small boy of thirteen. He wore the very antiquated suit of Buttons which the first Jonas had appeared in ten years ago. He had very fat, red cheeks, and small, puffy eyes, and a little button of a mouth, and he was always asleep except when Aunt Penelope was about, when he ran and raced and pretended to do a lot, and broke more things than can be imagined. He awoke now when I entered the kitchen.
"Jonas, you are a bad boy," I said; "the kettle isn't boiling, and the fire is nearly out."
"I'll pour some paraffin on the fire and it will blaze up in a minute," said Jonas.
"You won't do anything of the kind; it is most dangerous—and Jonas, what a shame that you should have broken that Dresden cup and saucer!"
"Lor', miss, it was very old," said Jonas. "We wears out ourselves, so does the chaney."