Without stopping to think, Hetty ran off. It really was but a step; she would have been back with Flo in ten minutes, but for one little obstacle. It was raining now, though the evening had promised so well. Hetty ran to Mrs. Fenton's, made her request, and got the kitten, the very last. Mrs. Fenton had made up her mind to keep it for herself, but gladly gave it when she heard for whom it was wanted. Hetty flew back through the fast-increasing rain, and very soon reached the door, when it suddenly dawned on her that having shut the said door when she left the house, she had no means of entering. If she knocked for ever, there was no one to let her in; and what would be worse, Flo might get frightened—might even try to reach the door. Clasping the kitten in her arms, Hetty sat down on the wet step, and cried in utter desolation.
She would be sent home at once, that was quite certain. For had not Mrs. Eyre told her not to leave Miss Flo, except to run down to the kitchen and put the pudding, which she had prepared, into the oven?—that pudding which was to form the great feature in the hungry children's meal when the walkers came home.
Hetty knew that if she were that moment in the kitchen, putting the pudding into the oven, instead of lamenting herself on the door-step, and adding to the dampness of the evening by shedding floods of tears, it would be too late, for she had quite forgotten to do it at the right time. This reflection did not raise her spirits, and the kitten began to wish itself back with its mother, so cold and damp and alarmed did it feel.
Presently steps were heard; then a voice saying cheerfully, "There, Lina; well done—you have run like a lamplighter. Are you very wet, Celia? Here we are safe at home, and nobody a bit the worse. Hilloa! What's this? Who are you, girl? What are you doing here? Why, Celia, it is Hetty!"
"Hetty!" exclaimed Mrs. Eyre, hurrying forward. "Oh, Hetty! how did this happen? Some one knocked, I suppose, and the door shut of itself; that happened to me once. Oh, my poor little Flo! You should have been more careful, Hetty. John, dear, open the door; you have the latchkey."
John put his hand into his pocket, felt all about, tried other pockets, and finally said, "What a stupid! I forgot to bring it. Now I must clamber over the garden wall; which I shouldn't mind only for my good clothes. Well, it can't be helped."
"Let me go, sir; I never thought of that!" cried Hetty. "I'm sure I can get over, sir. And then I'll let you in, and give Miss Flo the kitten. You'll let me do that before I have to go, won't you, ma'am?"
She ran along the side of the house towards the garden wall, and as she went she tied the kitten up in her apron. Putting the struggling little bundle on the top of the wall, she was over in a moment, for she was very active. Seizing the kitten, she ran into the house; she had soiled her neat calico apron, and torn two long strips out of it; but she was quite past fretting over that. She flew up the kitchen stairs and opened the hall door.
Mrs. Eyre hurried in and looked at Flo; the child was asleep, and seemed very comfortable.
"Oh, ma'am, you need not be afraid for Miss Flo, for I was very careful not to make any noise, and she was willing for me to go. I know you told me not to leave her, but I forgot. The poor little thing fretted so because she could not see the lambs, and I told her I thought I could get her a kitten, and then she wanted to get it at once; but I forgot what you said about leaving her, and I shut the door. Oh, dear, I am very sorry."