I left the table, and when James—whose real name I afterwards heard was Edgar—came back, he found me throttling father's neck and pressing my cheek against his.
"Where's the charm I gave you, Heather? I trust you have it safe."
I pointed with great pride to where it reposed on a little chain which held my tiny watch.
"By Jove," said father, "you are a good child to have kept it so long. It will bring you luck—I told you it was a lucky stone. It was about to be placed on the tomb of the prophet Mahomet when I came across it and rescued it, but it was placed before then on many other sacred shrines. It will bring you luck, little Heather. But now, in the name of fortune, tell me who gave you this gold watch?"
"Aunt Pen gave it to me," I said. "She gave it to me my last birthday; she said it had belonged to my mother, but that she had taken it after mother's death. She said she knew that mother would wish me to have it—which, of course, is the case. I love it and I love the little gold chain, and I love the charm, father."
"The charm is the most valuable of all, for it brings luck," said my father. "Now, sit down and enjoy your melon."
I don't think I had ever tasted an English melon before, and this one was certainly in superb condition. I rejoiced in its cool freshness and ate two or three slices, while father watched me, a pleased smile round his lips.
"I am going to take you to Lady Helen this morning, Heather."
"Yes, father," I answered, and I put down my last piece of melon, feeling that my appetite for the delicious fruit had suddenly faded.
"Why don't you finish your fruit, child?"