"She took me up just as papa does," Flora said, highly pleased. "Nice, strong Hetty." And she patted Hetty's round cheek with her little thin hand.
Hetty carried her out, and down the step, as tenderly and carefully as if she had been made of eggs; indeed, more carefully by far than if she had been a basket of eggs, for Mrs. Hardy had been heard to say that Hetty seemed to think that eggs were pebbles. Mrs. Eyre put the two little boys into their carriage, and then they all set out.
There was a common not far-off, which had been a large one when Little Hayes was a village, but which had been very much encroached upon by builders. Still, a pretty strip of wild land remained, and the air was very sweet and pleasant. They found out a cozy, sheltered nook, and there Mrs. Eyre took the two boys out of the little carriage and put them down on the grass. Edgar trotted about, or lay on his back, just as he liked, and baby rolled after him as best he could. Mrs. Eyre sat down and took some knitting out of her pocket.
"Are you tired, Hetty?" asked little Flora.
"Not a bit tired, Miss Flo."
"Then don't sit down yet," whispered the child; "I like moving about so much. You know I have to lie quiet all day."
"Do not go out of sight, Hetty," said Mrs. Eyre.
Hetty walked up and down, Flora prattling away in her quiet, distinct voice; but there was no danger that Hetty would not attend, for Flo had an inquiring mind, and asked lots of questions.
"Are you very sorry to come and live with us, Hetty?"