"Do you know what I think?" said Matty, looking up from her knitting. "I think, if mother went up herself and said that about asking Mrs. Goodenough, it would come better from her than from Hetty."
"That's true," said Mrs. Hardy; "and I'll step up to-morrow about ten. I'm very tired now, and a few hours won't make any difference."
"Thank you, mother. I must run home now, for Mrs. Eyre wants to go out. I shall be on the watch for you to-morrow."
Hetty was soon at home again. She found her mistress and the children ready to set out, and Mrs. Eyre only lingered to beg Hetty not to forget to put the mutton into the oven at the right time.
[CHAPTER VII.]
CHERRIES.
HETTY found Flo crying. Poor little thing, she had been the most sunny-tempered creature before her accident, and even since then her good temper and patience were wonderful. But she suffered a good deal of pain, and there was often a little feverishness about her; and hers was a trial which would have been felt by much older people—to lie on the sofa all day long, unable to take any part in all the fun and frolic of the others. And now the added grief of losing Hetty had made the child a little cross.
"Oh, Miss Flo, what's the matter with you? I can stay with you all the time; I need only run down to the kitchen once or twice."
"Oh, Hetty, Hetty! I'm very low to-day. I cannot help it, though I do try sometimes. Now they're all gone to get new boots, and I can't help wondering, shall I ever want new boots again any more?"
"Indeed you will, miss! If you're only careful to do just what the doctor said, and never hurt yourself, I'm very sure you'll be quite well some day. Have patience, my dearie, and don't make poor mamma fret. Nothing frets her like seeing you like this. You were crying when I went out, and you were crying when I came back, and it's bad for you, dear, and not right, too. Come now; shall I read you a bit of some nice story?"