She was now in a fever of excitement.  Her curly brown hair had risen in a mop of rings and ringlets around her head with tossing on her pillow, her eyes were round and bright, and a burning spot was on each of her cheeks.  At last she sprang out of bed and in a minute was at Nell’s bed-room door.

Nell was awakened out of a sound sleep by the opening of her door.

“Don’t be frightened, Nell; I’m not a burglar—­only Reine.”

“What’s the matter?” said Nell, rubbing her eyes.  “Have you got the toothache?”

“I never had toothache.  I want to know something.”

“I often want to know things,” said Nell, now sitting bolt upright in her little bed; “I’m sometimes dying of curiosity.  But it never routed me out of my sleep in the middle of the night.”

“It’s about Hetty,” said Reine, sitting on the floor in a faint streak of moonlight, and looking like a spirit—­if spirits have curly hair.

“You’ve gone Hetty-mad!” said Nell; “wouldn’t Hetty keep till morning?  We’re not going to transport her or lock her up.  You will have all next week to sit looking at her.”

“Where did you get her?” asked Reine.  “I know she is a foundling; but she must have had a beginning somewhere.”

“Of course she had; and a most peculiar one.  She was found on the Long Sands.  That is a place three miles from Wavertree on the sea-shore, where wrecks often come in.  John Kane, one of the carters, found her, and Mrs. Kane took her home.  Then Aunt Amy, who is dead, fancied her and adopted her.  When Aunt Amy died she was left unprovided for, and papa brought her here; and here she is.”

“Found on the shore where wrecks come in!  And she is just fifteen.  Oh, Nell, are you sure you are telling the truth?”

There was a sound in Reine’s voice that startled Nell.

“The plain truth.  Every village child knows it.  What has it got to do with you?”

“I don’t know.  I don’t know.  I am afraid to think.  Why, Nell, listen to me.  When I was a child of seven years old, my mother and father took me to France.  They had inherited a property there and were going to take possession of it.  They were fond of the sea, and they long travelled by sea.  While still near this coast the vessel was overtaken by storm and wrecked.  My father, mother, and myself were saved.  But my little baby sister was washed out of my mother’s arms and drowned.”

“Well?”

“Well!”

“If she was drowned how can she be Hetty, if that is what you mean?”

“They thought she was drowned.  We were taken into another vessel and carried on to France.”

“And never asked any more questions about the baby?”

“I don’t know.  My father and mother are both dead,” said Reine pathetically; “I am sure they did all they could.  But I know they thought they saw her drowned before their eyes.”

“And I suppose they did.  Reine, stop walking about the floor like Crazy Jane, in your bare feet, and either come into my bed or go back to your own.”