“After all, William,” said Mrs. Enderby to her husband, “you ought not to be too hard upon Amy, for you see she has given up talking of going abroad with Lady Harriet.”

“True; I have noticed that.  Yet I fear she will not relinquish one folly without falling into another.”

“Her present whim is at all events an amiable one,” said Mrs. Enderby gently.  “Let us hope no harm may come of it.’

“I should think it all most natural and right if any other woman than Amy were in question,” said Mr. Enderby; “but one never knows to what extravagant lengths she will go.”

The warnings of her brother had the effect of making Mrs. Rushton still more eager in her attendance on the child, and a few days after she had been “lectured” by him, as she put it to herself, she astonished good Mrs. Kane by saying: 

“I think she is quite fit to be moved now, Mrs. Kane, and the doctor says so.  I am going to take her home with me for a week for change of air.”

“Laws, ma’am, you never mean it!”

“But I do mean it.  I am going to fatten her up and finish her cure.”

“Well, ma’am, I’m sure you are the kindest of the kind.  To think of you troubling yourself and putting yourself out, and all for our little Hetty.”

“That is my affair,” said Mrs. Rushton laughing; “I don’t think a mite like that will disturb my household very much.  Just you pack her up, and I will carry her off with me to-morrow at three.”

The next day the lady carried off her prize, greatly delighted to think of how shocked her brother would be when he heard of her new “folly.”  As soon as she had introduced Hetty to all her dogs, and cats, and rabbits, Mrs. Rushton went to her desk and wrote a note to her sister-in-law inviting the entire Wavertree family to spend a day at Amber Hill, which was the name of her charming dwelling-place.

When, on a certain morning, therefore, the Wavertree carriage stopped at the foot of the wide flight of steps, flanked by urns of blooming flowers, which led up to Mrs. Rushton’s great hall door, the mistress of Amber Hill was seen descending the stone stair leading a little child by the hand.  This was Hetty, dressed in a white frock of lace and muslin, and decked with rose-coloured ribbons.

“Isn’t she a little beauty?” said Mrs. Rushton, smiling mischievously at her grave brother and sister-in-law.  “Look up, my darling, and show your pretty brown velvet eyes.  Did you ever see such a tint in human cheeks, Isabel, or such a crop of curling hair?”

“Do you really mean that this is the village child, Amy?” asked her brother.

“Yes, little Hetty is here!” said Amy with a gleeful laugh; “but then, William, Lady Harriet is gone.  If I had asked you to meet her to-day instead of little Miss Gray from Wavertree, I wonder what you would have done to find a more disagreeable expression of countenance.”

“Do you wish us to understand that you have adopted this ’nobody’s child,’ Amy?” said Mr. Enderby, looking more and more troubled.