The little girl, who had never been instructed or talked to sensibly by any one, was quite unconscious of the mischief she had done; and only felt that big people were hateful to-day, as she lay kicking and screaming on the floor upstairs.

The end of it all was, however, that, upon reflection, Mrs. Rushton found she did not care so much after all about the destruction of her watch, and that the whole occurrence would make a capital story to tell to her friends; and so she sent for Hetty, who was then making a dismal play for herself in the twilight with two chairs turned upside down and a pinafore hung from one to another for a curtain.  The child was seized by Grant, the maid, dressed in one of her prettiest costumes, and taken down to the drawing-room to Mrs. Rushton, who had quite recovered her temper and forgotten both the beating she had given Hetty and the beating Hetty had given her.  The culprit was overwhelmed with kisses, and praises of her pretty eyes; and soon found herself the centre of a brilliant little crowd who were listening with smiles to the story of Hetty’s ill-treatment of the watch.

Each year Mrs. Rushton went abroad for amusement and Hetty was taken with her, and in foreign hotels was even more shown about, flattered and snubbed, petted and neglected, than she had been when at home in London.  Everything that could be done was done to make her vain, wilful, ill-tempered; and the little creature came to know that she might have anything she pleased if only she could make Mrs. Rushton laugh.

Four or five years passed in this way, during which time Mrs. Rushton had very little intercourse with her brother’s family at Wavertree.  Her country house had been shut up and her time had been spent between London, Brighton, and fashionable resorts on the Continent.  In the meantime the education which she had promised Mrs. Kane should be given to her nursling had not been even begun.  Mrs. Rushton had had no leisure to think of it.  She looked upon Hetty as still only a babe, a marmoset born to amuse her own hours of ennui.  In her brother’s occasional letters he sometimes devoted a line to Hetty.  “I hope you are not spoiling the little girl,” he would add as a postscript; or, “I hope the child is learning something besides monkey-tricks.”  These insinuations always annoyed Mrs. Rushton, and she never condescended to answer them.  The suggestion that she had incurred a great responsibility by adopting Hetty was highly disagreeable to her.

It is hard to say how long this state of things might have gone on had not Mrs. Rushton’s health become delicate.  She suddenly found herself unable to enjoy the gay life which was so much to her natural taste.  The doctors recommended her a quiet sojourn in her native air, and warned her that she ought to live near friends who felt a real interest in her.

Of what these hints might mean Mrs Rushton did not choose to think, but physical weakness made her long for the rest of her own country home.