That was a bad day altogether.  Some friends of Mr. and Mrs. Enderby were dining with them, and when the school-room tea was over Phyllis and Nell told Miss Davis that their mother wished them to come to the drawing-room for a short time.  Hetty looked up, as she thought herself included in the invitation; but Miss Davis, who had received general instructions from Mrs. Enderby, said to her quietly: 

“You will stay here with me, Hetty, for this evening.”

Hetty flushed crimson and her pride was kindled in an instant.  She was not to go to the drawing-room any more, because she was only a charity child.  Tears rushed into her eyes, but she forced them back and pretended to be very busy with a book.  After the other girls had been gone some time Miss Davis said: 

“I am going to my own room for half an hour, Hetty, and I suppose you can amuse yourself with your book till I come back.”

When left alone Hetty flung away her book, went down on her face on the hearth-rug, and cried with all her might.  She thought of evenings when she had tripped about gaily in Mrs. Rushton’s drawing-room and every one was glad to see her.  Now, it seemed, she must live all alone in a school-room.  She forgot that she had ever been unhappy with Mrs. Rushton, ever been left alone, or snubbed or neglected in her house; for Hetty, like many other people, old and young, lost all her excellent power of reasoning when overmastered by passion.  In the old time she had been happy, she thought, cared for, loved, made much of.  Now she was beloved by nobody, not even 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.”