"I can't go to bed till I know if she is better," said Hetty. "Why have you sent a message to Wavertree?"
But Grant pursed up her lips and would say no more, and Hetty saw her pass into Mrs. Rushton's room and close the door.
The child crept back to the drawing-room, where no lamps had been lighted and there was only a little firelight to make the darkness and emptiness of the large room more noticeable. She knelt down on the hearth-rug and buried her face in the seat of Mrs. Rushton's favourite arm-chair. The dearest of all her dear dogs, Scamp, came and laid his black muzzle beside her ear, as if he knew the whole case and wanted to mourn with her. Two hours passed; Hetty listened intently for every sound, and wondered impatiently why Mr. and Mrs. Enderby did not arrive. She got up and carefully placed some lumps of coal on the fire, making no noise lest some one should come and order her off to bed. She was resolved to stay there all night rather than go to bed without learning something more.
At last a sound of wheels was heard, and Hetty went and peeped out of the drawing-room door and saw Mr. and Mrs. Enderby taking off their wraps in the hall. Their faces were very solemn and they spoke in whispers. She saw them go upstairs, and though longing to follow them, did not dare. Then she retreated back into the drawing-room and buried her face once more in the depths of the chair.
In this position, with Scamp's rough head close to hers, she cried herself to sleep. The wintry dawn was just beginning to show faintly in the room when she was awakened by the sound of voices near her. Chilled and stiff she gathered herself up and rose to her feet; and Scamp also got up and shook himself. Then Hetty saw Mr. and Mrs. Enderby standing in earnest conversation at the window.
They started when they saw her as if she had been a ghost, and Mrs. Enderby exclaimed in a low voice:
"The child! I had quite forgotten her!"
"Yes, there will be trouble here," muttered Mr. Enderby; while Hetty came forward, her face pale and stained with crying, her dress disordered, and her curly hair wild and disarranged. She looked so altered that they scarcely knew her.
"How is she? Oh, Mrs. Enderby, say she is better," cried Hetty, swallowing a sob.
"My dear child," said Mrs. Enderby, "how have you come to be forgotten here, have you not been in bed all night?"