In this simple active life Hetty developed a new spirit which surprised herself as much as it astonished her humble friends.  She worked in the garden and tended the poultry, besides performing various tasks which she took upon herself indoors.  And in this sort of happy industry several weeks flew, almost uncounted, away.

One evening Mrs. Kane and Hetty were sitting at the fire waiting for John to come in.  They were both tired after their day’s work.  Mrs. Kane was sitting in a straw arm-chair and Hetty rested with her feet up on the settle.  The little brown tea-pot was on the red tiles by the hearth, and the firelight blinked on the tea-cups.

“Mrs. Kane,” said Hetty, “will you let me call you mammy?”

“Will I?” said Mrs. Kane.  “To be sure I will, darling, and glad to hear you.  But wouldn’t mother be a prettier word in your mouth?”

“Phyllis calls Mrs. Enderby mother,” said Hetty, “and it sounds cold.  Mammy will be a little word of our own.”

“And when you go back to the Hall you will sometimes come to see your old mammy?”

“I think I am going to ask you to let me stay here always,” said Hetty.

“Nay, dear, that wouldn’t be right.  You’ve got to get educated and grow up a lady.”

“I could go to the village school,” said Hetty; “I’m not clever at books, and they could teach me there all I want to learn.  When I grow up I might be the village teacher.  And you and Mr. Kane could live with me in the school-house when you are old.”

“Bless the child’s heart!  How she has planned it all out.  But don’t be thinking of such foolishness, my Hetty.  Providence has other doings in store for you.”

One of the happiest things about this time was that Scamp was as welcome in the cottage as Hetty was herself.  He slept by the kitchen fire every night, and shared all Hetty’s work and play during the daytime.  Indeed, nothing could be more satisfactory than the child’s life in these days with Mrs. Kane.  What in the meantime had become of her extraordinary pride?  Love and service seemed to have completely destroyed it.

One day, however, there came an interruption to her peace.  Lucy, the maid, arrived with a message to know when Hetty would be able and willing to return to the Hall.

Mrs. Kane was out and Hetty was sitting in the sun at the back-garden door with one of John Kane’s huge worsted stockings pulled over one little hand, while she darned away at it with the other.  At sight of Lucy her pride instantly waked up within her and rose in arms.  Hetty stared in dismay at smart flippant Lucy, and felt the old bad feelings rush back on her.  Tears started to her eyes as she saw all her lately acquired goodness flying away down the garden path, as it seemed to her, and out at the little garden gate.

“I don’t think I am ready to go yet,” said she; “but I will write to Mrs. Enderby myself.  Would you like to see Scamp, Lucy?  He has grown so fat and looks so well.”