"Why won't they fly like the butterflies?" asked Hetty.

"Because they were made to grow."

"Why can't I fly, too?"

"Because you were made to run."

When Hetty went into the school she had a scratch from a briar all
across her cheek.

"You are quite late, Hetty Gray," said the schoolmistress. "And what
have you been doing to scratch your face?"

"I was trying to make the flowers fly," said Hetty; and then she was put
to stand in the corner in disgrace with her face to the wall.




CHAPTER II.

UNDER THE HORSES' FEET.


Mrs. Kane's cottage stood on a pretty bend of one of the village roads,
and belonged to an irregular cluster of little houses with red gables
and green palings. It was among the poorest dwellings in Wavertree, but
was neat and clean. The garden was in good order, and a white climbing