"Matty, are you in your right mind?" asked Mrs. Hardy.
"Yes, mother. If Hetty was in Mrs. Eyre's service, or carrying Miss Flo while Mrs. Eyre drew the little carriage, she would be safe enough. And she would do her best, and indeed, ma'am, Hetty is a good girl. Mother will tell you, she never was known to tell a lie yet."
"It is true enough," Mrs. Hardy admitted.
"There's not a bit of harm in Hetty. I'll even allow that she means well. But I couldn't find it in my conscience to recommend you to try her, ma'am. There's Mrs. Simmons' Emma, she's sixteen, and a steady girl."
"No, no; I will not have her. I heard Emma Simmons using such coarse, violent language to her brother the other day. I would not like my children to hear it."
"You will never hear a bad word from Hetty, ma'am," said Matty. "She is heedless, she does forget things, I know. But she's a good girl, that knows the Commandments, and wants to keep them; and mother knows that too. Will you see her, ma'am? I know she'd do well with you. Hetty, come here."
The door of the inner room opened—Hetty must have been pretty close to it. Out she came—a tall, well-made girl, much taller than neat little Matty. Mrs. Eyre knew her face very well, which was lucky, for just now any one might have objected to her, as likely to frighten the children. Her eyes were quite lost in her swollen eyelids and cheeks, her poor lips were swelled, her whole face was crimson, and her apron was soaking wet, having been freely cried into. Her stuff skirt was torn in several places, her calico bodice displayed two corking pins where buttons were wanting. Her thick, short, brown hair hung over her forehead; altogether, as she sneaked into the room and stood, ashamed to look up, she presented a most forlorn appearance.
"Hetty, did you hear what we were saying?" asked Matty.
"Yes; I couldn't help hearing."
The girl had a very sweet voice, and spoke nicely, Mrs. Eyre observed.