From his intense indulgence I think I dimly gathered that he thought
me ill. I combined this in my mind with a speech of my nurse's that I
had overheard, and which gave me the horrors at the time--"He's got
_the look_! It's his poor ma over again!"--and I felt a sort of
melancholy self-importance not uncommon with children who are out of
health.
I may say here that my nurse had a quality very common amongst
uneducated people. She was "sensational;" and her custom of going over
all the circumstances of my mother's death and funeral (down to the
price of the black paramatta of which her own dress was composed) with
her friends, when she took me out walking, had not tended to make me
happier or more cheerful.
That night I ate more from my father's plate than I had eaten for
weeks. As I lay after dinner with my head upon his breast, he stroked
my curls with a tender touch that seemed to heal my griefs, and said,
almost in a tone of remorse,
"What can papa do for you, my poor dear boy?"
I looked up quickly into his face.
"What would Regie like?" he persisted.
I quite understood him now, and spoke out boldly the desires of my
heart.
"Please, papa, I should like Mrs.
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