When Hetty arrived that afternoon she was led straight into the school-room, where tea was just ready, Mrs. Enderby judging that it would be well to set her to work at once, giving her no time for moping.  When she appeared, looking pale and sad in her black frock, her eyes heavy and red with weeping, even Phyllis was touched, and the school-room tea was partaken of in peace and almost in silence.  Hetty was so full of the recollection of the last time she had been brought in here by Mrs. Enderby, and so conscious of the change that had come upon her since then, that she could scarcely raise her eyes for fear of crying.  Nell kept pushing cakes and bread and butter before her, Phyllis made general remarks in a softer tone than usual, and Miss Davis, who perhaps understood Hetty’s position better, and sympathized more with her, than any of the rest, could think of nothing better to say to the forlorn child than to ask her occasionally if she would like some more sugar in her tea.

After tea Phyllis and Nell set to work to prepare their lessons for the next day, and Hetty was thankful to have a book placed before her, and a lesson appointed for her to learn.  It was a page in the very beginning of a child’s English history, and Hetty read it over and over again till she had the words almost by heart without in the least having taken in their sense.  Her thoughts were busy all the time with the looks and words of her companions, and with going back over all that had occurred that day.  Phyllis had been gentler than she expected.  Perhaps she was not going to be unkind any more.  It was a good thing after all to be obliged to sit over books, as it would prevent her being talked to more than she could bear.  Nell was very kind.  Would Phyllis allow her to be always kind?  She had remarked at the first moment that the frocks of the two other girls were made of finer stuff than hers, and were trimmed with crape.  Mrs. Benson had got her her mourning-frock, and had got it, of course, as inexpensive as she thought fit under the circumstances.

“Of course they wear crape,” thought Hetty, “because Mrs. Rushton was their aunt.  She was nothing to me, after all, except my mistress.  Grant used to say things like that and I would not believe her.  She was right when she said I was only a charity child.”

Phyllis and Nell were accustomed to go to the drawing-room for an hour or two in the evening after their father and mother had dined, and on this occasion Hetty was invited to accompany them.  It was not Mrs. Enderby’s intention that she should always do so, but she considered that it would be well to include her to-night.

The last evening spent by Hetty in the drawing-room at the Hall was that one on which she had entertained the company with her mimicries.  Then, full of pride and delight in her own powers of giving amusement, she had felt herself in a position to despise all disapproval and dislike.  Now, how was she fallen!  Yet Mr. and Mrs. Enderby received her kindly, and paid her as much attention as if she had been an ordinary visitor.