Here Mrs. Goodenough paused. She had very nearly said the word "'Hetty,'" but that, she thought, would rejoice the poor girl, so she substituted "'Zelica.'"
"'Zelica! I want Zelica!' That's always on her lips; little peevish brat! I wonder how her mother keeps her hands off her!"
"I declare," cried Hetty, "I never thought of that. I suppose they think Zelica is lost."
"Lost she surely is, and a good thing too. But that redic'lous child thinks some dog ate her! She was in such a state this morning, declaring I hurt her lifting her up, that we could get nothing done. That's why I'm late. Mrs. Eyre's going to get a girl in your place, otherwise I'd have to quit; but I suppose I shan't be turned out this time, as you're not there to carry tales."
All this did Mrs. Goodenough say, with the amiable wish to make Hetty miserable; but this time she failed, for Hetty did not know what she was saying. She was thinking about Zelica, and Zelica's little mistress, and now with a hasty "good-evening" she turned away and went quickly home. Mrs. Goodenough immediately made a kind of general proclamation that "Hetty Hardy was getting to be a greater fool every day."
Hetty went home, and procured a sheet of notepaper and Matty's pen and ink. She then sat down to write. It took her a long time, but at last, with a deep sigh, she folded up her paper, caught up Zelica from her comfortable nook by the fire, and ran out into the now almost dark evening.
The Eyres were at supper, or tea, as they called it. Flo was on her sofa, looking smaller than ever; presently Lina and Edgar ran off to play, and Mr. Eyre drew a chair over and sat down near Flo.
"Come, my little girl, you haven't eaten any of the nice bread and jam I cut for you. Try to eat a little bit, Flo. Why are you crying? You make poor mamma and me very sad."
"I can't help it, papa. I am so sorry for poor dear Hetty. I do want Hetty—I love her."
"What is that?" cried Mrs. Eyre, as a slight noise was heard.