Wild Heather
Ah, here comes Gordon. Gordon, you look very presentable now. Sit close to me on this sofa, and let Heather give you some tea. It's nice to have one's own girl to wait on one, isn't it?"

"Profoundly nice," said the Major; "exquisitely nice. To think that we have a child of our very own, Helen!"

"I don't think about it," replied Lady Helen. "It isn't my custom to wear myself out going into raptures, but, Gordon, I am very seriously displeased about those curtains."

"Curtains, dear—what ails them? I see nothing wrong in them."

"But I do. I told Clarkson's people rose-colour, soft rose-colour, and they sent blue—I will never get anything at Clarkson's again."

"They must be changed, sweetest one," replied my father.

I was giving him a cup of tea just then, and my hand shook. My stepmother noticed this; she said, in a sharp voice:

"Heather, get me a fan; that fire will spoil my complexion."

I fetched her one. She held it between herself and the fire.

"By the way, Gordon," she said suddenly, "we had better tell the child now."

"Oh, what?" I asked in some astonishment and also alarm.

"Really, Heather, you need not give way to such undue excitement. A year of my training will completely change you. I only wished to mention the fact that your name is no longer Grayson; in future you are Heather Dalrymple. Your father and I have agreed that you both take my name; that is a thing often done when there is a question of money. I hold the purse strings. I am a very generous person as regards money; Major, dear, you can testify to that."

"I can, Helen. There never was your like, you are wonderful."

"You therefore are little Heather Dalrymple in future," continued my stepmother, "and your father and I are Major and Lady Helen Dalrymple. It's done, child, it's settled; the lawyers have arranged it all. Grayson is a frightful name; you ought to be truly thankful that it is in my power to change it for you. You need not even wait for your marriage; the change takes place at once."

"But I prefer my own name," I answered. "I don't want to have your name. Father, please speak—father, I am not Heather Dalrymple!"


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