Hetty was dressed in a dark crimson velvet frock, trimmed with rich old yellow lace, which enhanced the warmth and richness of her complexion, and gave a reflected glow to her dark and deep-fringed eyes.

A crop of crisp short curls of a dusky chestnut colour was discovered when her hat was removed.

No ungenerous prejudice prevented Mrs.Enderby from acknowledging at the first glance that Hetty had a most charming countenance.
"And this is Hetty! how she has grown!" said Mrs.Enderby, taking the child's little hand between her own and looking at her in a friendly manner.

With a swift pain, however, Hetty remarked that she did not kiss her; but she was not aware that Mrs.Enderby, though a kind, was not a demonstrative woman, and that kisses were rarely bestowed by her on anyone.

If Hetty had put up her little face for a caress, Mrs.Enderby would have been very well pleased to lay her own cool cheek against the child's scarlet lips; but Hetty's was one of those natures that desire tokens of love and are yet too proud to seek for them.