eeping on the child's swollen face.

"Everybody's conduct has been bad to me," wailed Hetty.

"What has been done to you?" asked Mrs. Enderby.

"Everyone hates Scamp, and they have taken him away. And I have no one
to love me but him."

"Perhaps people would love you if you were not so fierce and wild,
Hetty," said Mrs. Enderby. "Now, try and listen to me while I talk to
you. It was very wrong of you to get up in the night and open the door,
so as to alarm the house by the noise. And it was very wrong of you to
take a dog into your room and into your bed."

"It was Scamp," mourned Hetty. "Scamp loves me. And how could I leave
him outside when he wanted to be with me?"

"You could have done so because it would have been right," said Mrs.
Enderby. "You knew that Mr. Enderby had refused to allow the dog to come
here. You ought to have remembered his wishes. He has been very good to
you, and you must learn to obey him."

"It is cruel of him not to let me have Scamp," persisted Hetty; "he
never bites anyone, and he is better than the other dogs. Why can I not
have him for my own?"

"I will not answer that question, Hetty; it must be enough for you that
you are to obey. You must stay here by yourself till you are in a better
state of mind."

Then Mrs. Enderby went away, and Hetty fell into another agony of grief,
thinking about Scamp.

She forgot the breakfast which she had not yet tasted, and felt every
moment a greater longing to see her dog again. Where had they taken him?
she wondered. Was he still in the stable-yard? Perhaps they would drown
him to get rid of him. Possessed by this fear she seized her hat and
flew out of the room, quite reckless of consequences, and as it chanced,
she met no one on her way down-stairs and along all the back passages
leading towards the stable-yard.

Arrived there she was guided by his barking to the spot where Scamp was.
He was chained in a kennel in a corner of the yard, where it was
intended he should remain till a new master or mistress could be found
for him. Hetty watched her opportunity, and when there was no one about
flew into the yard, slipped the chain off his neck, and sped out of the
place again, with the dog following joyfully at her heels.

In acting thus the little girl had merely followed a wild impulse, and
had formed no plan for her future conduct with regard to Scamp. Finding
herself in his company now, she thought only of prolonging the pleasure
and esc