She had a little
round pink face with large brown eyes as soft as velvet, and wide open
scarlet lips. Her tiny pink calico frock was clean and neat, and her
shoes not very much broken, though covered with dust. Altogether Hetty
had the look of a child who was kindly cared for, though she had neither
father nor mother in the world.
Two or three great strong horses, gray and bay, with thick manes and
tails, came clattering up to the door of the forge, a man astride on one
of them. Hetty knew the horses, which belonged to Wavertree Hall, and
were accustomed to draw the long carts which brought the felled trees
out of the woods to the yard at the back of the Hall. Hetty once had
thought that the trees were going to be planted again in Mrs. Enderby's
drawing-room, and had asked why the pretty green leaves had all been
taken off. She was four years old now, however, and she knew that the
trees were to be chopped up for firewood. She clapped her hands in
delight as the great creatures with their flowing manes came trotting up
with their mighty hoofs close to her little toes.
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