"Poor Mrs. Eyre!" thought she, "not to be able to spare one penny, when the dear little soul wants them so badly. Oh I declare I might get some for her myself; that sixpence of Ned's is in my pocket."
She ran after the woman and bought two bunches, each containing six or seven cherries. These she popped into her pocket, as she had not time to run back with them. Then she was soon at her mother's door.
The lines in the garden were full of fluttering, dangling linen, and Mrs. Hardy and Matty were refreshing themselves with a well-earned cup of tea.
"Why, here's Hetty; and as solemn as you please," cried Mrs. Hardy.
"Oh, mother, I'm so glad to find you resting, for I want a talk with you very much. I've been thinking, and thinking, and I know what I'd like to do, but you'll know whether I ought, and besides, you may not like me to do it."
"Sit down, child. Matty, give her a cup of tea to help her to speak plain. You're not in any scrape, Hetty? That's well; and as for what you've said so far, I don't know what you're at."
Hetty drank her tea, and then proceeded to tell her story, dwelling at some length on Mrs. Goodenough's remarks.
"And now, mother, if you wish it, I can try for that place at Lady Drysdale's, but I would much rather be with my mistress. And there she'll be, with Miss Flo fretting, and the baby teething, and Miss Lina at home all day and very troublesome, just like our Jane, and no help from Mrs. Goodenough, who has made up her mind to leave if she is asked for any. Now, if the mistress would keep me, and not Mrs. Goodenough, I would be of a deal more use to her. The mistress can't carry Miss Flo a bit."
"Ay, child—but the cooking?"
"I could do all that Mrs. Goodenough does. The mistress does it herself. Mrs. Goodenough cleans up, and if there's anything to be put in the oven for dinner, she does that."