“Everybody’s conduct has been bad to me,” wailed Hetty.

“What has been done to you?” asked Mrs. Enderby.

“Everyone hates Scamp, and they have taken him away.  And I have no one to love me but him.”

“Perhaps people would love you if you were not so fierce and wild, Hetty,” said Mrs. Enderby.  “Now, try and listen to me while I talk to you.  It was very wrong of you to get up in the night and open the door, so as to alarm the house by the noise.  And it was very wrong of you to take a dog into your room and into your bed.”

“It was Scamp,” mourned Hetty.  “Scamp loves me.  And how could I leave him outside when he wanted to be with me?”

“You could have done so because it would have been right,” said Mrs. Enderby.  “You knew that Mr. Enderby had refused to allow the dog to come here.  You ought to have remembered his wishes.  He has been very good to you, and you must learn to obey him.”

“It is cruel of him not to let me have Scamp,” persisted Hetty; “he never bites anyone, and he is better than the other dogs.  Why can I not have him for my own?”

“I will not answer that question, Hetty; it must be enough for you that you are to obey.  You must stay here by yourself till you are in a better state of mind.”

Then Mrs. Enderby went away, and Hetty fell into another agony of grief, thinking about Scamp.

She forgot the breakfast which she had not yet tasted, and felt every moment a greater longing to see her dog again.  Where had they taken him? she wondered.  Was he still in the stable-yard?  Perhaps they would drown him to get rid of him.  Possessed by this fear she seized her hat and flew out of the room, quite reckless of consequences, and as it chanced, she met no one on her way down-stairs and along all the back passages leading towards the stable-yard.

Arrived there she was guided by his barking to the spot where Scamp was.  He was chained in a kennel in a corner of the yard, where it was intended he should remain till a new master or mistress could be found for him.  Hetty watched her opportunity, and when there was no one about flew into the yard, slipped the chain off his neck, and sped out of the place again, with the dog following joyfully at her heels.

In acting thus the little girl had merely followed a wild impulse, and had formed no plan for her future conduct with regard to Scamp.  Finding herself in his company now, she thought only of prolonging the pleasure and escaping with him somewhere out of the reach of unfriendly eyes.  She darted through the outer gate of the stable-yard just as the great clock above the archway was striking ten; and was soon plunging through a copse on the outskirts of the village, and making for the open country.