"No—oh, no! It was—Zelica. She—mother, I can't remember. I'm worn out. Matty, don't look at me like that—you've no call to be afraid of me. I'll go away if you like, but take care of Zelica—Miss Flo's pet."
"The girl isn't herself," said Mrs. Hardy. "Help me to get her to bed, Matty; maybe she'll come to when she has slept."
They made her a cup of tea, and then got her to bed. She fell asleep at once; and in the morning her mind was somewhat clearer. But she was not a bit like Hetty. She told her story, but she never once cried over it. If she had wept and bemoaned herself as usual, her mother would have had plenty to say to her, but this trembling, silent girl frightened the good woman out of her wits.
It was on Friday night that Hetty came home, and on Saturday she was too ill to get up; but Mrs. Hardy made inquiries, and found out that the child was certainly alive. On Sunday Hetty dressed herself, and said, "I'll go up to Adelaide Terrace. Maybe Mrs. Goodenough may know something."
"I'll go with you," said Matty. "I'll be back in time for church, mother."
The two sisters walked together, almost in silence. The door was opened by Mrs. Goodenough. This worthy creature had questioned Lina, and had a general idea as to what had happened.
"Well!" said she, "I think, in your place, Hetty Hardy, I'd have had the decency to stay away."
"Have you heard how Miss Flo is?"
"Just alive—that's all. There's that boy crying again! Master John, if you don't stop, I'll spank you! The master brought the three home, and said I must stay here and take care of them."
"Troublesome they are, too—but of course I couldn't refuse."