She worked in the
garden and tended the poultry, besides performing various tasks which
she took upon herself indoors. And in this sort of happy industry
several weeks flew, almost uncounted, away.
One evening Mrs. Kane and Hetty were sitting at the fire waiting for
John to come in. They were both tired after their day's work. Mrs. Kane
was sitting in a straw arm-chair and Hetty rested with her feet up on
the settle. The little brown tea-pot was on the red tiles by the hearth,
and the firelight blinked on the tea-cups.
"Mrs. Kane," said Hetty, "will you let me call you mammy?"
"Will I?" said Mrs. Kane. "To be sure I will, darling, and glad to hear
you. But wouldn't mother be a prettier word in your mouth?"
"Phyllis calls Mrs. Enderby mother," said Hetty, "and it sounds cold.
Mammy will be a little word of our own."
"And when you go back to the Hall you will sometimes come to see your
old mammy?"
"I think I am going to ask you to let me stay here always," said Hetty.
"Nay, dear, that wouldn't be right. You've got to get educated and grow
up a lady.
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