n for an hour.

In her desolation she could not think of any creature that loved her
except Scamp, the dog who had been her only comfort since this trouble
had befallen her; and he was left behind at Amber Hill. She had begged
to be allowed to bring him with her to Wavertree, but Mr. Enderby
objected, saying that there were already too many dogs about the place.

As soon as Miss Davis returned to the school-room Hetty asked to be
allowed to go to bed.

"I have just been looking out some materials for needlework for you,"
said Miss Davis. "It is quite time you learned to sew; I hope you will
find amusement in the occupation. However, if you are tired you may go
to bed. As a rule the girls do not go to bed till nine o'clock."

Hetty shuddered as she looked at the needle-work which was prepared for
her. In her eyes it was only a new instrument of torture. She did not
even know how to hold a needle; she did not want to know. Mrs. Rushton
had never been seen sewing; it was only the maids who had any occasion
to sew.

"I hate sewing," said Hetty despairingly.

"Then you must learn to like it," said Miss Davis briskly; "little girls
are not allowed to hate anything that is useful, especially little girls
who must look forward to providing for themselves in the world by their
own exertions. But go to bed now. Tomorrow I hope you will be in a
better humour."

And Hetty vanished.

CHAPTER XI.

HETTY TURNS REBEL.

Hetty cried herself to sleep as she had done the night before, and her
last thought was of Scamp. About the middle of the night she had a dream
in which she fancied that Scamp's paws were round her neck, and that he
was barking in her ear his delight at seeing her. The barking went on
so long that it wakened her, for it was real barking that had caused the
dream.

Hetty sat up in her bed and listened. Surely that was Scamp's bark,
loud, sharp, and impatient, as if he was saying, "Where's Hetty? I want
Hetty. I will not go away till I have found Hetty." In the stillness of
the night it sounded to the lonely child like the voice of a dear friend
longing to comfort her. She jumped out of bed, threw open the window,
and listened again. Could it be that he had found the way from Amber
Hill, and come so many miles to look for her? Darling old Scamp, was it
possible he loved her so much? Yes, it was indeed his voice; he was
outside the house, almost under her window, and she must and would go
down and tak