Now little Hetty Gray ought to have been in her bed by this time, or getting ready for it; but she was, as Mrs. Kane told Mrs. Ford, a very wild little girl, though sharp; and while Mrs. Kane was busy giving her husband his supper Hetty had escaped from the cottage once more, and had skipped away from the village to have another little ramble by herself before the pretty green woods should begin to darken, and the moon to come up behind the trees.

Hetty had filled her lap with dog-roses out of the hedges, and wishing to arrange them in a bunch which she could carry in her hand, she sat down in the middle of the road and became absorbed in her work.

Near where she sat there was a sharp turning in the road, and Hetty was so busy that she did not hear the sound of a carriage coming quite near her.  Suddenly the horses turned the corner.  Hetty saw them and jumped up in a fright, but too late to save herself from being hurt.  She was flung down upon the road, though the coachman pulled up in time to prevent the wheels passing over her.

Poor Hetty gave one scream and then nothing more was heard from her.  The footman got down and looked at her, and then he went and told the lady in the carriage that he feared the child was badly hurt.

“Oh dear!” said the lady, “what brought her under the horses’ feet?  Can you not pick her up?”

The footman went back to Hetty and tried to lift her in his arms, but she uttered such pitiful screams at being touched that he was obliged to lay her down again.

Then the lady, who was Mrs. Rushton, got out and looked at her.

“You must put her in the carriage,” she said, “and drive back to the village.  I suppose she belongs to some of the people there.”

“I know her, ma’am,” said the footman; “she is Mrs. Kane’s little girl,—­little Hetty Gray.”

Mrs. Rushton got into the carriage again and held the child on her lap while they were being driven back to the village to Mrs. Kane’s cottage door.  It was quite a new sensation to the whimsical lady of fashion to hold a suffering child in her arms, and she was surprised to find that, in spite of her first feelings of impatience at being stopped on the road, she rather liked it.  As Hetty’s little fair curly head hung back helplessly over her arm, and the round soft cheek, turned so white, touched her breast, Mrs. Rushton felt a motherly sensation which she had never before known in all her frivolous life.

Mrs. Kane was out at the garden gate looking up and down the road for the missing Hetty.  When she saw Hetty lifted out of the carriage she began to cry.

“Oh my! my!” she sobbed, “I never thought it would come to this with her, and she so sharp.  Thank you, madam, thank you, I’m sure.  She’s not my own child, but I feel it as much as if she was.”