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