"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.