Together they spread the two meals, one beside the fire for the family, the other some fifty yards off for the harvesters, now moving towards the rick-yard with the last load.
Hetty was not her mother's favourite.

Emilia and Patty divided that honour by consent, though the balance appeared now and then to incline towards Patty.

But between Mrs.Wesley and her fairest daughter there rested always a shadow of restraint, curious enough in its origin, which was that they knew each other better than the rest.
Often and quite casually Hetty would guess some thought in her mother's mind hidden from her sisters.

She made no parade of this insight, set up no claim upon it; merely gave proof of it in passing, and fell back on her attitude of guarded affection.

And Mrs.Wesley seemed to draw back uneasily from these reflections of herself, and take refuge in Patty, who, of all her children, understood her the least.
So now when the others brought their mother to the feast in triumph, Hetty swept her a curtsey with skirt held wide, then went straight and kissed her on both cheeks.
"Ah, what a dear truant 'tis! and how good 'tis to have her home again!" She did not ask (as Nancy or Patty would assuredly have asked) what had become of her father.