sition as Grant. For the moment she could not remember all those
worse horrors which her imagination had been conjuring up, and from
which she was actually saved. She stood trembling and shaking in the
storm of her grief, trying to stem her floods of tears with her
quivering little hands, and unable to keep them from raining through her
fingers on to the floor.

Mrs. Enderby sighed. Though she could not know all Hetty's thoughts, she
guessed some of them, and her heart sank lower than ever at the thought
of the trouble which might come of the introduction of so stormy an
element into her hitherto peaceful household. However, she was not a
woman to flinch from a duty, when once she had made up her mind to
recognize it.

"Come, come, my child!" she said, "you have been passing through a great
trial, but you must try to be brave and make yourself happy with us."

Had Mrs. Enderby taken poor Hetty in her arms and given her a motherly
kiss, much would have been done to heal the wounds made in the child's
sensitive heart. But it was part of her plan, conscientiously made, that
she must not accustom Hetty to caresses, such as she could not expect to
receive later in life. So she only patted her on the shoulder, and, when
her passion of crying had a little subsided, bade her run away and get
on her things, and be ready as soon as possible to come with her to
Wavertree Hall.

CHAPTER X.

THE NEW HOME.

Before going to Amber Hill that day, Mrs. Enderby had sent for her two
girls to come to her in her room, where she informed them of the fact
that Hetty was coming to the Hall.

"I am going to tell you some news, my children, and I hope you will feel
it to be good news. I know my little daughters have kind hearts, and I
am sure they will pity one even younger than themselves who has been
left without home or protection."

"I suppose you are speaking of Hetty, mother?" said Phyllis.

"Yes, dear. Your father and I have arranged to bring her here."

A faint colour passed over Phyllis's fair pale face, and she said:

"Did Aunt Amy not leave her any money, mother?"

"No; I am sorry to say she did not leave her anything."

"She ought to have done so," said Phyllis.

"Your Aunt Amy was a very peculiar person, Phyllis, and nothing would
induce her to make a will. She put off the task too long, and died
without fulfilling it."

"Could those who have got her money now not make it all right?" said
Phyllis. "Could th