The time passed so quickly that, before she knew it, she had been in
the house an hour. When she went away Miss Bennett asked her to come
again, a thing she had never been known to do before, for she was not
fond of young people in general.

"But, then, Hetty's different," she said to herself, when wondering at
her own interest.

"Did you thank kind Miss Bennett?" was her mother's question as Hetty
opened the door.

Hetty stopped as if struck, "Why, no! I don't think I did."

"And stayed so long, too? Whatever did you do? I've heard she isn't
fond of people generally."

"We talked; and--I think she's ever so nice. She asked me to come
again; may I?"

"Of course you may, if she cares to have you. I should be glad to do
something to please her."

That visit of Hetty's was the first of a long series. Almost every day
she found her way to the lonely cottage, where a visitor rarely came,
and a strange intimacy grew up between the old and the young. Hetty
learned of her friend to knit, and many an hour they spent knitting
while Miss Bennett ransacked her memory for stories to tell. And then,
one day, she brought down from a big chest in the garret two of the
books she used to have when she was young, and let Hetty look at them.