"Isn't he a bad, naughty boy, Grand-godfather, to want to kill my Daddy and sell me as a slave?"
Henry Langham had listened to the story with interest, and very heartily he agreed with her.
"I shall tell Bobby," the little girl went on indignantly, "and he'll go and kill the Sultan Casim Ammeh."
"Who's Bobby?" her father asked.
"My sweetheart. Master Robert Cameron."
"So in my absence I've been cut out, have I?" her father said teasingly. "I'm dreadfully jealous."
But Pansy snuggled closer to him, and her arms went round his neck in a tight hug.
"There'll never be anyone as nice as my Daddy," she whispered.
George Barclay held the tiny girl closer, kissing the golden head.
Often during his months in England, Pansy would scramble on his knee and say: