"Oh, John, that is what ails poor little Flo. Hetty went and gave her a lot of cherries, though she heard me refuse to buy them for her. And now she tells me she put them in this basket, because Flo refused to eat them—but the cherries are gone."
"Ma'am, it was wrong of me to buy them for her, I suppose; but indeed I did not hear you say that they'd make her ill, nor did I ever think it possible. I did not know she took them, but now I'm sure it was while I was in the kitchen, for the poor little dear, she wasn't like herself all the rest of the time. But to think of me never missing them!"
"Well, Hetty, you have always told me the truth—I am sure you are right. Oh, my poor little Flo! John, what had I better do?"
"Come up to her; we'll just wake her up for a moment, and give her some of the medicine Dr. Haddon left for her. Say nothing, for she will tell you in the morning, and that will be much better. As to you, Hetty, mind this—you are never to give the child anything to eat, except what your mistress provides. It was a very wrong and very careless thing to do, and if the poor child is ill for a week, it is your doing. Go off now to bed. Come, Celia."
Poor Hetty! That was a very miserable night.
[CHAPTER VIII.]
AT THE SEA-SIDE.
THE next morning Flo seemed poorly, but not really ill. Mrs. Eyre kept her in bed, and the child lay there quietly, and looked very sad.
"Mamma," she said, "when you're not busy, come to me."
"I can stay with you now if you like."