"That we were going back to India almost—almost at once. Isn't it just lovely? You will come too, of course, only you might remember about the pins."
Anastasia, who had placed me on a little chair, now went abruptly to the fire and stirred it into a brilliant blaze. I stared at it as a child will who has seldom seen fires. Anastasia stood with her back to me for a long time, even after she had done poking the fire, and when she turned round I thought her eyes looked funny.
"Are you going to cry again?" I said. "I don't like cry-babies."
"Of course not, Miss Heather. Now let me undress you."
A minute later I was in bed, the firelight playing on the walls. The bed was big and warm and soft. I felt tired and very happy. I dropped into profound slumber. When I awoke it was broad daylight, and Anastasia was shaking me.
"Get up, miss," she said. "If you want to be off in time you must be stirring."
"Oh, hurrah!" I answered. "This is Aunt Penelope's day. Are we all going, Anastasia? And when we go, shall I ask her at once if she is your aunt, too?"
"Now, for goodness' sake, stay still, Miss Heather, while I tie your things. You are such an awful fidget."
I was dressed in an incredibly short space of time, and I had eaten a good breakfast, and Anastasia had taken me by the hand and brought me downstairs. Daddy was waiting for me in the hall, and he looked very big and broad and important. He went up to Anastasia and said a few words to her, and I think he slipped something into her hand, but I am not sure. She turned abruptly and walked away, and I said:
"Where is she going, father?"