s. 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 Nell, and stretched out a little fat hand to each of them.

"Come and see the beautiful flowers!" she said gleefully; "you never saw
such lovely ones!"

CHAPTER IV.

MRS. KANE IN TROUBLE.

"Now, tell me all about it, for as I am going to be her mother in future
I must know everything that concerns my child."

Mrs. Rushton was talking to Mrs. Kane, having come to the cottage to
announce her intention of adopting Hetty. Mrs. Kane was crying bitterly.

"You'll excuse me, ma'am. I would not stand in the way of my darling's
good fortune, not for ever so, I'm sure. And yet it's hard to give her
up."

"I should not have thought it could make much difference to you. I
believe she was generally running about the roads when not at school."

"Well, you see, ma'am, that is true; but at night and in the mornings
she would kneel on my lap to say her prayers, and put