"That's for yourself, mind. You must boil them till they're red. Good-bye now; I must lose no more time."
"Good-bye, and thank you kindly," said Hetty, going back to her work.
But she did not work long. The pleasant shade of the hut—the wide outlook over the deep blue sea, dotted all over with fishing boats, tempted her to gaze. Laying down her work on her knees, she gazed, and dreamed, and idled. How much time she passed in this occupation she had no idea—if one can call it an occupation.
At last Flo stirred in her sleep, and Hetty roused herself. She changed the position of the pillow a little, and the child was soon in a deep sleep again.
But now Hetty perceived that Zelica was gone. The basket was open, and empty. Hetty tried to remember when she saw her last. She had been there when the shrimp-girl came—and Hetty thought she had seen her when she returned to the hut.
"She'll have gone back to the lodgings—but I will take a look round; the child won't wake this hour."
She went out and looked up and down the path. Coming back, she perceived that Zelica, who was not a perfectly honest cat,—poor Flo always thought it was because she had seen her mistress take the cherries!—had been at the bag of shrimps. She had poked a hole in the thin, wet paper, and Hetty concluded that she had stolen a shrimp, and run off to try if she liked it.
"She can't be far-off," muttered Hetty, taking a look at Flo, who was lying quite quiet. "I'll just run up the path a bit. She'll have gone that way, the little thief! She won't go home with her stolen shrimp."