When bed-time came she was taken, not to the pretty room she had occupied when last in the house, but to a neat little plain chamber which was to be henceforth her own.  It was not on the same landing with the bed-rooms of Phyllis and Nell, as she was quick to remark, but at the end of a long passage off which were the upper maids’ bed-rooms, a fact which stabbed her pride.

It was, however, a nice little room, placed above the passage and ascended to by a few steps, and it had a picturesque lattice window, embowered in ivy and passion-flowers.  She had hardly comforted herself by observing this when she was overcast again by a fresh and unpleasant discovery.  Her trunk, which had been sent after her by Mrs. Benson, had already been unpacked and her things disposed of in a wardrobe.  But, alas! all her handsome clothing had disappeared.  Her velvet and silk frocks trimmed with lace and fur, her sashes and necklaces, silk stockings and shoes with fantastic rosettes, these and numbers of other treasures were no longer to be seen in her room.  A sufficient quantity of plain underclothing, a black frock to change the one she wore, a black hat and jacket, and one or two of her plainest white frocks, these were all that remained of the possessions which had but yesterday been hers.

When she had recovered herself sufficiently after this disappointment to be able to look around the chamber, she saw that her desk and work-box, and some of her favourite story-books, had been placed on a table at the window.  These she was glad to see, and recovering her spirits began to remember that after all she had now no right to any of those costly articles which she had been allowed to use during Mrs. Rushton’s lifetime.  As she was to live henceforth a humble dependent in this house she could have no further need of such luxuries.  She had remarked that Phyllis and Nell were always simply dressed, and yet they had more right to finery than she had.

Hetty had sufficient good sense to know all this without being told.  Her peculiar experiences had sharpened her reasoning faculties and made her keenly observant of what passed before her, and had also given her an unusually acute perception of the meanings and influences floating in the atmosphere about her from other people’s thoughts and words.  Child as she was, she was able to take, for a moment, Mrs. Enderby’s view of her own position, and admitted that the kind yet cold lady had acted justly in depriving her of useless things.  Yet her wilful heart longed for the prettinesses that she loved, and she wept herself to sleep grieving for their loss, and for the greater loss which it typified.

The next morning her head was aching and her eyes redder than ever when she appeared in the school-room, and she seemed more sullen and less meek than she had been yesterday.  She could not fix her mind on the lesson Miss Davis gave her to learn, and made a great display of her ignorance when questioned on general subjects.  All this was not improving to her spirits, and in becoming more unhappy she grew more irritable.  Miss Davis felt her patience tried by the troublesome new pupil, and Phyllis eyed her with strong disapproval over the edges of her book.  Phyllis loved order, regularity, good conduct, and in her opinion Hetty was an intolerably disagreeable interruption of the routine of their school-room life.