He went away and Hetty was left alone in the firelight with her first
foster-mother.

"Perhaps you are hungry, little miss," said Anne. "You have had a long
walk, maybe, with your dog."

Scamp had curled himself up on the "settle" at Hetty's feet.

Hetty felt a pang at the words "little miss," but she knew it was her
own pride that had brought this treatment upon her. Perhaps Mrs. Kane
had once loved her as Scamp did now; but of course she would never love
her again. At all events she was dear and good for taking Scamp in
without a word of objection, and allowing him to rest himself
comfortably at her fireside.

"I am _dreadfully_ hungry," said Hetty, in a low ashamed voice, and
looking up at Mrs. Kane with serious eyes. "I have not eaten anything
to-day. I sprained my ankle getting the berries, and they fell so far
away I could not pick them up."

"Not eaten to-day? What,--no breakfast even?"

"No," said Hetty. "I was bad in the morning, or I should have got some.
At least they said I was bad, but I did not feel it."

"What did you do?"

"I took in Scamp in the night when he barked at the window, and I wanted
to keep him, though Mr. Enderby would not have him about the place; and
I fought to get him. And I told Mrs. Enderby that I ought to have him.