[CHAPTER II.]
LITTLE FLO.
IF Hetty had been allowed to follow her own way, she would have gone to Adelaide Terrace at six o'clock in the morning, to show her zeal, but her mother would not hear of it.
"You'd find her in bed, most likely, and some one would have to get up to let you in. No; at nine Mr. Eyre goes off to his business, and you be there soon after nine. Try and keep out of mischief till then—if you can."
As the clock struck nine, Matty and Hetty set out together, carrying between them the small wooden, paper-covered box which contained Hetty's very modest outfit. She could easily have carried it alone, but Matty thought it looked better between them, and perhaps was not sorry to make sure that Heedless Hetty went at once to her new home, and reached it in a presentable state. Hetty had cried, of course, when saying good-bye to her mother and brothers, but for all that she was in fine spirits, and full to the lips of the most excellent resolutions.
"Matty," said she, "you tell Dan that he may leave off calling me Heedless Hetty. I mean to learn to be a good servant, as Annie did; and when I come home, it's Handy Hetty that Dan will be calling me."
"Look where you're going! There now! You've stepped into that puddle—the only one in the road—and dirted your shoe, that Dan blacked so lovely for you!"
"Oh, so I have! Wait! I must rub it off," cried Hetty, and setting down her end of the box into the puddle which had already soiled her shoe, she ran to the side of the road, where she had espied some grass.
"Well, of all the girls!" said Matty to herself, as she tried to see if the box was very wet. "Heedless Hetty will suit well enough yet a bit. Come along; there'll be a scraper and a mat at Mrs. Eyre's, and if I could see you safe there, I'd be glad."
Hetty came back, looking a little ashamed of herself. She did not refer to her message to Dan, and in a few moments they reached No. 1, Adelaide Terrace.