Scamp licked her face and huffed and snuffed all round her.  Then he made several discontented remarks which Hetty understood quite well, though it is not easy to translate them here.  Then he hustled round her, and scurried up and down the road looking for help; and finally sat on his tail on the top of the bank, and pointing his nose up at the unlucky tree on which the berries had hung, howled out dismally to the world in general that Hetty was in real trouble now, and somebody had better come and look to it.

After a long time some one did come at last.  The wintry evening was just beginning to close in and the short twilight to fall on the lonely road, blotting out the red berries on the trees, when a sound of wheels and the cracking of a carter’s whip struck upon Hetty’s ears.  Scamp had heard them first and rushed away barking joyfully in the direction of the sound, to meet the carter, whoever he might be, and to tell him to come on fast and take up Hetty in his cart and bring her safely home.

Presently Scamp came frolicking back, and soon after came a great team of powerful horses, drawing a long cart laden with trunks of trees, which John Kane, the carter, was bringing from the woods to be chopped up for firewood for the use of the Hall.  At this sight a dim recollection of the past arose in Hetty’s brain.  Had she not seen this great cart and horses long ago, and was not the face of the man like a face she had seen in a dream?  She had not had time to think of all this when John Kane pulled up his team before her and spoke to her.

“Be you hurt, little miss?” he said good-naturedly; “I thought something was wrong by the bark of your dog.  He told me as plain as print that I was wanted.  ‘Look sharp, John Kane!’ he said; and how he knows my name I can’t tell.  There, let me sit you in the cart, and I’ll jolt you as little as may be.”

Hetty was thankful to be put in the cart, and it seemed to her a very strange chance that had brought John Kane a second time in her life to rescue her.  He did not know her at all, and she did not like to tell him who she was.

“Now, where can I take you to?” he said, as they neared the village.

“I came from Wavertree Hall,” said Hetty, hanging her head, “and,” she added with a great throb of her heart, “my name is Hetty Gray.”

“Law, you don’t say so!” said honest John; “our little Hetty that is turned into a lady!  Well, child, it’s not the first time you have got a ride in John Kane’s cart.  You cannot remember, but you used to be main fond of these very horses, watching them getting shod and running among their feet.  However, bygones is bygones, and you won’t want to hear anything of all that.  Now, I can’t drive you up to the door of the Hall in this lumbering big vehicle; but if you’ll condescend to come to our cottage for an hour, I’ll take a message to say where you are, and Mrs. Enderby will send for you properly, no doubt.”