A COTTAGE CHILD AGAIN.
Some time passed before Hetty saw any of the family at the Hall again.
Mr. Enderby was much displeased at her escapade, and resolved she should
be punished. He thought the best way to punish her was to leave her in
the care of Mrs. Kane. The hard and lowly living she would have to
endure there would, he thought, subdue her pride and teach her to be
meek and grateful on her return to a more comfortable home. By his
desire Mrs. Enderby refrained from going to see the child. Mrs. Kane was
sent for to the Hall and directed to take every care of her charge; but
on no account whatever to pamper her.
At first Hetty was startled to find how very ready they were at the Hall
to let her completely drop out of their lives, and at times she repined,
but on the whole she was happier, and every day seemed to arouse her
more and more to a better sense of the duties that lay round her in
life, While seated on her old settle she watched Mrs. Kane sweeping and
washing the floor, polishing up the windows and bits of furniture, and
making the humble home shine. Hetty longed to be able to take broom and
scrubbing-brush from her hands and help her with the troublesome work.
When she found that by learning to hold her needle she could help to
darn and mend for her dear friend, she eagerly gave her mind to
acquiring the necessary knowledge. Books were scarce in John Kane's
house, but Hetty did not miss them. At this time of her life all books,
except stories, were hateful to her, and she thought she had read enough
stories. It became a perfect delight to her to see Mrs. Kane shake out
an old flannel jacket and hold it up to the light and declare that Hetty
had mended it as well as she could have done it herself. "And that will
save my eyes to-night," she would say, to Hetty's intense pleasure, who,
now for the first time in her young life, tasted the joy of being useful
to others.
When her foot was sufficiently better to allow her to limp about, John
Kane made her a crutch, and Hetty felt more gladness at receiving this
present than Mrs. Rushton's expensive gifts had ever given her. After
this she used to hop about the cottage, dusting and polishing, and doing
many little "turns" which were a great help to Mrs. Kane. She soon knew
how to cook the dinner and make the tea, and when Mrs. Kane was busy or
had to go out, it was Hetty's delight to have everything ready for her
return. To save her black frock from being spoiled by work she had
learned to make herself a large gingham blouse, in which she felt free
to do anything she pleased without harming her clothes.
In this simple active life Hetty developed a new spirit which surprised
herself as much as it astonished her humble friends. She worked in the
garden and tended the poultry, besides performing various tasks which
she took upon herself indoors. And in this sort of happy industry
several weeks flew, almost uncounted, away.
One evening Mrs. Kane and Hetty were sitting at the fire waiting for
John to come in. They were both tired after their day's work. Mrs. Kane
was sitting in a straw arm-chair and Hetty rested with her feet up on
the settle. The little brown tea-pot was on the red tiles by the hearth,
and the firelight blinked on the tea-cups.
"Mrs. Kane," said Hetty, "will you let me call you mammy?"
"Will I?" said Mrs. Kane. "To be sure I will, darling, and glad to hear
you. But wouldn't mother be a prettier word in your mouth?"
"Phyllis calls Mrs. Enderby mother," said Hetty, "and it sounds cold.
Mammy will be a little word of our own."
"And when you go back to the Hall you will sometimes come to see your
old mammy?"
"I think I am going to ask you to let me stay here always," said Hetty.
"Nay, dear, that wouldn't be right. You've got to get educated and grow
up a lady."
"I could go to the village school," said Hetty; "I'm not clever at
books, and they could teach me there all I want to learn. When I grow up
I might be the village teacher. And you and Mr. Kane could live with me
in the school-house when you are old."
"Bless the child's heart! How she has planned it all out. But don't be
thinking of such foolishness, my Hetty. Providence has other doings in
store for you."
One of the happiest things about this time was that Scamp was as
welcome in the cottage as Hetty was herself. He slept by the kitchen
fire every night, and shared all Hetty's work and play during the
daytime. Indeed, nothing could be more satisfactory than the child's
life in these days with Mrs. Kane. What in the meantime had become of
her extraordinary pride? Love and service seemed to have completely
destroyed it.
One day, however, there came an interruption to her peace. Lucy, the
maid, arrived with a message to know when Hetty would be able and
willing to return to the Hall.
Mrs. Kane was out and Hetty was sitting in the sun at the back-garden
door with one of John Kane's huge worsted stockings pulled over one
little hand, while she darned away at it with the other. At sight of
Lucy her pride instantly waked up within her and rose in arms. Hetty
stared in dismay at smart flippant Lucy, and felt the old bad feelings
rush back on her. Tears started to her eyes as she saw all her lately
acquired goodness flying away down the garden path, as it seemed to her,
and out at the little garden gate.
"I don't think I am ready to go yet," said she; "but I will write to
Mrs. Enderby myself. Would you like to see Scamp, Lucy? He has grown so
fat and looks so well."
Hetty could not resist saying this little triumphant word about the
dog. However, Lucy was ready with a retort.
"I suppose he was used to cottages," she said. "People generally do best
with what they have been accustomed to."
Hetty's ears burned with the implied taunt to herself, but she said with
great dignity:
"You can go now, Lucy. I don't think I have anything more to say to
you."
And Lucy found herself willing to go, though she had intended saying a
great many more sharp things to the child, whom she, like Grant,
regarded as an impertinent little upstart.
That evening Hetty made a tremendous effort and wrote a letter to Mrs.
Enderby.
"Deer Madam,--My foot is well, but Mrs. Kane is making me good and I
would like to stay with her. I am sorry for Badness and giving trubbel.
I could lern to work and be Mrs. Kane's child.
Yours obeedyentley, HETTY."
Mr. and Mrs. Enderby smiled over this letter together that evening.
"Poor little monkey," said the former, "there is more in her than I
imagined. But what spelling for a girl of her age!"
"Might it not do to allow her to stay where she is, coming up here for
lessons, and to walk occasionally with the girls?"
"I do not like the idea of it," said Mr. Enderby. "I would rather she
stayed here and went as often as she pleased to see her early friends.
It is evident they have a good influence upon her. Yet it would not be
fair to let her grow up with their manners if she is to earn her bread
among people of a higher class."
So when Mrs. Enderby went next day to visit Hetty she was firm in her
decision that the little girl should return to the Hall. She discovered
Hetty busy sweeping up the cottage hearth in her gingham blouse. Hetty
dropped her broom and hung her head.
"I was pleased to get your letter, Hetty. I am glad you are sorry for
what occurred."
"I am sorry," said the little girl looking up frankly. "I am very sorry
while I am here. But I might not be so sorry up at the Hall. The
sorryness went away when I saw Lucy. Afterwards it came back when Mrs.
Kane came in."
"And that is why you want to stay here? Because Mrs. Kane makes you feel
good? It is an excellent reason; but why can you not learn to be good at
the Hall too? What has Mrs. Kane done to make you good?"
"Oh! she loves me, for one thing," said Hetty; "and then she makes me
pray to God. I never heard about God at Mrs. Rushton's; and Miss Davis
always told me I made him angry. Mrs. Kane's God is so kind. I would
like to make him fond of me."
"You have a strange startling way of saying things, Hetty. You must try
and be more like other children. Mrs. Kane's God is mine, and yours, and
every one's, and we must all try to please him. But if you like her way
of speaking of him you can come here as often as you please and talk to
Mrs. Kane."
"Then I must go back to the Hall?" said Hetty.
"I am sorry you look on it as a hardship, Hetty. Mr. Enderby and I think
it will be more for your good than staying here."
"I am only afraid of being bad," said Hetty simply.
"Oh! come, you will say your prayers and learn to be a good child," said
Mrs. Enderby cheerfully; and then she went away, having settled the
matter. She was more than ever convinced that Hetty's was a curious and
troublesome nature; but she had not sounded the depths of feeling in the
child, nor did she guess how ardently she desired to be good and worthy
of love, how painfully she dreaded a relapse into the old state of pride
and wilfulness which seemed to shut her out from the sympathies of
others.
After Mrs. Enderby was gone, Hetty sat for a long time with her chin in
her little hand looking out of the cottage door, and seeing nothing but
her own trouble. How was she to try and be like other children? Could
she ever learn to be like Phyllis, always cold and well-behaved, and
never the least hot about anything; or could she grow quiet and sweet
and so easily silenced as Nell? How was she to hinder her tongue from
saying out things just in the words that came to her? She wished she
could say things differently, for people so seldom seemed to understand
what she meant. Tears began to drip down her cheeks as she thought of
returning to her corner in the stately Hall, where she felt so chilled
and lonely, of sitting no more at the snug homely hearth where there was
always a spark of love burning for her.
As she wiped her eyes a gleam of early spring sunshine struck upon an
old beech-tree at the lower end of the garden, and turned all its young
green into gold. The glorified bough waved like a banner in the breeze,
and seemed to bring some beautiful message to Hetty which she could not
quite catch. The charm of colour fascinated her eye, the graceful
movement had a meaning for her. Springing up from her despondent
attitude she leaned from the doorway, and felt a flush of joy glow in
her heavy little heart. The same thrill of delight that had enraptured
her when, as a babe not higher than the flag leaves, she stretched her
hands towards the yellow lilies, pierced her now, but with a stronger,
more conscious joy.
When Mrs. Kane returned she found her ready to take a more hopeful view
of the future that was at hand.
"I have got to go," she said; "and I am going. But I may come to you
when I like. And when the pride gets bad I will always come."
Mrs. Kane promised to keep Scamp for her own, and so Hetty could see all
her friends at once when she visited the cottage.