The footman went back to Hetty and tried to lift her in his arms, but
she uttered such pitiful screams at being touched that he was obliged to
lay her down again.

Then the lady, who was Mrs. Rushton, got out and looked at her.

"You must put her in the carriage," she said, "and drive back to the
village. I suppose she belongs to some of the people there."

"I know her, ma'am," said the footman; "she is Mrs. Kane's little
girl,--little Hetty Gray."

Mrs. Rushton got into the carriage again and held the child on her lap
while they were being driven back to the village to Mrs. Kane's cottage
door. It was quite a new sensation to the whimsical lady of fashion to
hold a suffering child in her arms, and she was surprised to find that,
in spite of her first feelings of impatience at being stopped on the
road, she rather liked it. As Hetty's little fair curly head hung back
helplessly over her arm, and the round soft cheek, turned so white,
touched her breast, Mrs. Rushton felt a motherly sensation which she had
never before known in all her frivolous life.

Mrs. Kane was out at the garden gate looking up and down the road for
the missing Hetty. When she saw Hetty lifted out of the carriage she
began to cry.

"Oh my! my!" she sobbed, "I never thought it would come to this with
her, and she so sharp. Thank you, madam, thank you, I'm sure. She's not
my own child, but I feel it as much as if she was."