"Yes, of course you do. I can spare you, Hetty. Indeed, we must learn to do without you—poor Flo and I."
On this Flo began to cry again, and so, be sure, would Hetty—when a cry was heard outside, "Cherries! ripe cherries! cherry-ripe! cherry-ripe! Penny a bunch! penny a bunch!"
"Mamma," cried Flora, "do you hear? Ripe cherries, only one penny a bunch. Oh, do get me some—they are so cool and nice."
It was very seldom that Flo asked for anything eatable, for she was not a greedy child, and if she had a cake or other little dainty given her, she always insisted on sharing it with the whole family. But for fruit the poor child had a perfect craving, and the misfortune was that all fruit, except strawberries and grapes, disagreed with her dreadfully.
Hetty ran off to stop the woman with the cherries, but Mrs. Eyre called to her.
"No, Hetty—thank you. I cannot give Flo any cherries. Don't stay out very long, please, for I have to take the other children into town to get new boots; they must have them, I find."
Hetty heard poor little Flo giving way to a most unusual fit of whining.
"Why can you not give me cherries, mamma? Only one pennyworth!"
And Hetty heard no more, for she closed the hall door and ran on down the terrace.