It was a long, weary journey. The train stopped at every station, and sometimes where there was no station at all. Hetty felt as if she was dreaming, and could not wake. She did not even cry, and whether the noise she heard were the whistle of the engine or Flo's screams, she did not know. But at last they reached B—, and she left the train. She had a long way to walk, but she did not think of that; she went slowly along with the cat in her arms. At last she reached the straggling street of Little Hayes, and then she found herself at her mother's door.
It was shut, of course, for it was nearly midnight. Hetty tapped with her hand, and when no notice was taken of this, she tried to call out, and could not. Then she picked up a little stone and hammered at the door. She heard the door of the inner room open and her mother's voice, crying, "Dan! Ned! Get up and come down. The house must be on fire, the police are knocking at the door."
Dan, however, was so sound asleep that he never heard her, and Ned only said, "Yes, ma'am, directly," and relapsed into sleep.
Mrs. Hardy and Matty, in their night-gowns, opened the door; and instead of the policeman they expected to see, there stood Hetty. The light from Mrs. Hardy's candle fell upon her white face as she stumbled in, letting the cat fall. Zelica walked over to the fireplace with an air of dignity, and selected the warmest spot to lie down in.
"Oh, you unfortunate child what's wrong with you now?" said Mrs. Hardy.
"I have killed Miss Flo!" Hetty answered, in a hoarse whisper. "She's dead, or dying; the master told me to go home, for he couldn't bear the sight of me. Mother," holding out her trembling hands, "don't you hate me, for oh, I'm just dead myself."
Mrs. Hardy made no answer in words. She just took the poor girl in her arms and kissed her. Hetty clung to her, but neither cried nor tried to explain; and Mrs. Hardy was very much frightened.
"Matty, get a chair; help me to put her in it. There. Now tell me, Hetty, my poor child, tell me what happened. I'm very sure you never hurt Miss Flo a'purpose. Maybe things aren't as bad as you think."
"Yes, I'll tell you all. Where shall I begin? Oh, it was a girl gave me some shrimps—that was the beginning."
"Well?—go on. Did you give the child the shrimps to eat?"