Hetty Gray | Page 7

family to spend a day at
Amber Hill, which was the name of her charming dwelling-place.
When, on a certain morning, therefore, the Wavertree carriage stopped
at the foot of the wide flight of steps, flanked by urns of blooming
flowers, which led up to Mrs. Rushton's great hall door, the mistress of
Amber Hill was seen descending the stone stair leading a little child by
the hand. This was Hetty, dressed in a white frock of lace and muslin,
and decked with rose-coloured ribbons.
"Isn't she a little beauty?" said Mrs. Rushton, smiling mischievously at
her grave brother and sister-in-law. "Look up, my darling, and show
your pretty brown velvet eyes. Did you ever see such a tint in human
cheeks, Isabel, or such a crop of curling hair?"
"Do you really mean that this is the village child, Amy?" asked her
brother.
"Yes, little Hetty is here!" said Amy with a gleeful laugh; "but then,
William, Lady Harriet is gone. If I had asked you to meet her to-day

instead of little Miss Gray from Wavertree, I wonder what you would
have done to find a more disagreeable expression of countenance."
"Do you wish us to understand that you have adopted this 'nobody's
child,' Amy?" said Mr. Enderby, looking more and more troubled.
"Well, to tell you the truth, I did not mean that quite," said Mrs.
Rushton; "but now that you suggest it--"
"I suggest it!" cried Mr. Enderby.
"How horrified you look! But all the same you have suggested it, and I
think it is a capital idea."
"Do not come to any hasty conclusion, I implore you, Amy. Think over
it well. Consider the child's interests more than your own momentary
self-indulgence!"
Mrs. Rushton coloured with displeasure.
"I see you are determined to be as disagreeable as usual," she said
angrily. "As if the monkey could fail to be benefited by my patronage!
Pray, will she not be better in my drawing-room than getting under
horses' feet about the Wavertree roads, or losing herself in the
Wavertree woods?"
"Frankly, I think not," said Mr. Enderby stiffly.
Mrs. Rushton's eyes flashed, and she did her brother the injustice of
thinking that he feared her adoption of little Hetty would in some way
interfere with the worldly interests of his own children. She was not
accustomed to seek far for other people's meanings and motives, and
generally seized on the first which presented itself to her mind. She
knew that she only wanted to amuse herself, and had no intention of
wronging her nieces and nephew by playing with this charming babe.
Why, then, should William take such fancies in his head? In this flash
of temper she instantly decided on keeping little Hetty always with her.
Was there any reason in the world why she should not do just as she
pleased? Hetty should certainly stay with her and be as her own child
from this day forth.
"What have you to say about my adopting little Hetty?" she said,
turning to her sister-in-law with a slightly defiant and wholly
triumphant smile.
"I shall say nothing," said Mrs. Enderby, "until I see how you treat her.
I trust it may turn out for the best."
Thus, all in a moment, and merely because Mrs. Rushton would not be

contradicted, was little Hetty's future in this world decided. Before her
brother had spoken, the lady of Amber Hill had had no intention of
keeping Hetty for more than a week in her house. And now she felt
bound (by the laws of human perversity) to take her and bring her up as
her own child.
In the meantime Mrs. Enderby's three children and Hetty Gray were
standing by, gazing at one another. The little Enderbys, Mark, Phyllis,
and Nell, had taken in the whole conversation, and understood perfectly,
with the quick perception of children, the strangeness of the situation,
and their own peculiar position with regard to Mrs. Kane's little girl
from Wavertree.
The little Enderbys were thinking how very odd it was that the little girl
whom they had often seen, as they walked with their nurse or drove
past in the carriage with their mother, playing on the roads in a soiled
pinafore, should be now presented to them as a new cousin. Phyllis, the
eldest, was much displeased, for pride was her ruling fault. Mark and
Nell were charmed with the transformation in Hetty and very much
disposed to accept her as a playfellow, though they remembered all the
time that she was not their equal.
Hetty, being only four years old, was supremely unconscious of all that
was being said, and meant, and thought over her curly head. She gazed
at the three other children, and, repelled by Phyllis's cold gaze, turned
to Mark and