"They're all crying," said Hetty miserably. "Mrs. Goodenough, let me come in and mind them."
"Let you come in! The master says to me, says he, 'Mrs. Goodenough, I look to you—I've turned Hetty Hardy out for bad conduct, and if she comes here, send her about her business; character she'll get none,' says he, 'and I'll send a policeman after her if the child dies, for it's manslaughter, if not murder!' So good-bye, Hetty; don't be coming here any more. It's my turn to shut the door with you on the wrong side of it now."
She shut the door accordingly.
"Hetty dear, the half of that is not true. Mr. Eyre never spoke like that. You never meant to hurt the child, and—"
"No, I did not. But it's all my fault. Nothing's too bad for me!" And she turned wearily to walk home again.
On the way they met Fred Smith, who you may remember was employed in the Little Hayes post office.
"Why, Hetty!" he cried. "Whatever ails you?"
Hetty shook her head and walked on, but Matty lingered to tell Fred what was wrong.
"Poor Hetty!" he said; "and she is so fond of the child! I'll tell you what, Matty: I'll go this very moment, and find out about the trains, and I'll go to R—, and bring Hetty word how the child is."
"But, Fred, it is Sunday!"