"Aunt Penelope believed in plain food," I said.
"Trust her for that," remarked my father. "I could see at an eye's glance that she was the sort of old lady who'd starve the young."
"Oh, no," I answered; "you are quite mistaken. Aunt Penelope never starved me and was never unkind to me. I love her very dearly, and I must ask you, father, please, not to speak against her to me."
"Well, I won't, child; I admire loyalty in others. Now then, leave those kidneys and bacon alone. Have some cold tongue. What! you have had enough? Have a kipper, then. No? What a small appetite my little girl has got! At least have some bread and butter and marmalade. No again? Dear, dear—why, the sky must be going to fall! Well, I'll tell you what—we'll have some fruit."
"Oh, dad, I should like that," I said.
"Your bones are younger than mine, child," remarked the Major; "you must press that bell. Ah! here comes James. James, the very ripest melon you can procure; if you haven't it in the hotel, send out for it. Let us have it here with some powdered ginger and white sugar in less than ten minutes."
"Yes, sir," answered the man. He bowed respectfully and withdrew.
"What are you staring at, Heather?" asked my father.
"You called that man James," I said. "Is that his name?"
"Bless you, child, I don't know from Adam what his name is. I generally call all waiters 'James' when I'm in England; most of them are James, so that name as a rule hits the nail on the head. In Germany Fritz is supposed to be the word to say. But now, what are you thinking of? Oh, my little darling, it's I who am glad to have you back!"