"Well, that's a good girl, even if she is heedless. Dan's always laughing at her, but I shall tell him on Sunday that she's a deal better than either of us, and I'll do the like of that no more, for she is right."
Mrs. Eyre opened the door for Hetty. "Come in quietly. I'm afraid your master is not well. I never saw him so tired. He is half asleep."
"Oh, ma'am, what will you say to me? I was late with the letter!—too late for the post!"
"Oh, Hetty, Hetty!"
"What is that?" cried Mr. Eyre from the parlour. "Do I hear you saying that the letter was too late?"
"Yes, sir," said Hetty, in a trembling voice, but going forward to meet him with the letter in her hand; "the bag was gone."
"You had plenty of time. What made you late?"
"It was a Punch and Judy, sir. I wanted to be able to do it for Miss Flo, and so—"
"Very careless. I have not time to speak to you now, for that letter must go, or Mr. Cartwright will be very angry. Where are my boots? Celia, I must go into town with it."
"Oh, John! and you so tired!"