Rushton went to her desk and wrote a note to her sister-in-law
inviting the entire Wavertree family to spend a day at Amber Hill, which
was the name of her charming dwelling-place.
When, on a certain morning, therefore, the Wavertree carriage stopped at
the foot of the wide flight of steps, flanked by urns of blooming
flowers, which led up to Mrs. Rushton's great hall door, the mistress of
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.
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