you as far as
I can. Try to be a big brave girl.'
I didn't feel big and brave. I felt very very small
and very very scared, but I did not make a fuss as
Jem fastened my Sunday frock, tied the ribbons
of my starched pinafore and buttoned my boots.
I washed my face and Jem brushed my hair for
me, running his hands through the silky newly-
washed strands.
'At least I'll be able to pick you out from a crowd
of hundreds, Hetty,' he said. 'No one could ever have
as red hair as you. There! You look lovely now.'
I gave him a fierce hug.
'Careful! You'll crease your pinafore,' said Jem.
'I hate silly pinafores,' I said.
Oh, how I longed to be barefoot in my old flower-
sprigged cotton dress, ready for a day's larking with
my dear brother. I clutched him harder and he held
me fast.
'Ready, children?' Mother called.
She had Gideon dressed now, but he was still half
asleep, his eyes drooping. We went downstairs and
Mother cut us bread and poured us milk. I was too
fearful to eat and Gideon too tired. I sat on Jem's
lap and Gideon sat on Mother's. It was as if we'd
regressed five years and were back to being little
babies.
'It's time to go,' said Mother.
Gideon wriggled a little, looking puzzled.
'Come on, my pet. Let Mother carry you,' she
said, hoisting him up in her arms.
He held his wooden elephant tight by the trunk.
I had my dear old rag baby and my new horse, but
I wished Jem had made it for me and not Nat. But
Jem had another gift for me, a tiny present in a
twist of rag. I opened it up carefully and found a
silver sixpence, polished until it shone. I stared at
it in awe.
'I earned it running errands. I'll earn you many
more sixpences,' Jem whispered earnestly. 'Then,
when you're bigger, I can take you to the circus in
style.'
'Oh, Jem!' I said. 'Dear, dear Jem.'
'Keep it safe in your pinafore pocket. You can
spend it on anything you like.'
I held the sixpence tight in my hand. I knew I
would never be tempted to spend a penny of it. I
would do my level best to hang onto it for ever.
Father was already out at the farm and Nat
and the girls were still asleep. Even baby Eliza
was quiet in her cradle. I could not say goodbye to
them, so instead I whispered goodbye to my little
stool and the scrubbed table and the coloured
pictures on the walls. They were mostly scenes
from the Bible – baby Jesus in the stable, Joseph
in his coloured coat and Daniel in the lions' den.
The picture I liked best hung halfway up the
stairs: two chubby children in nightgowns with a
tall white guardian angel spreading his wings over
them protectively.
I ran up to the angel picture and said goodbye.
As I turned back to Jem and Mother and Gideon, I
fancied I heard a beat of big wings, a sudden breeze
in the thick air of the cottage, as if the angel had
stepped right out of the picture and was arching his
wings over me.
I tried hard to picture him above us as we trudged
down the lane towards the village. We got to the
crossroads – and there was Sam waiting with his
horse and cart. Gideon clapped his hands, totally
misunderstanding. He thought this was a special
shopping day. Sam was taking us to town to buy new
clothes or new boots, a new kettle or a set of china
plates or a washstand, and perhaps a toffee apple or
a sugar cane for us children if we were very good.
'Well, the little lad doesn't seem too down-
hearted,' Sam said, chucking him under the chin.
'The little missy looks mournful though, bless her.'
'Say goodbye to Jem now, Hetty,' said Mother,
lifting Gideon up into the cart.
'No! No!' I said, tears spilling.
'I'll come on the cart with you,' said Jem. 'Hush,
Hetty, I'm coming too.'
'You'll miss a morning's school,' said Mother.
'What's school, when I can be with Hetty an hour
longer?' said Jem.
'You can't come, Jem. Sam has business in town
and won't be able to take you back in the cart.'
'Then I'll walk back,' said Jem. He said it as if
seven miles was a
I can. Try to be a big brave girl.'
I didn't feel big and brave. I felt very very small
and very very scared, but I did not make a fuss as
Jem fastened my Sunday frock, tied the ribbons
of my starched pinafore and buttoned my boots.
I washed my face and Jem brushed my hair for
me, running his hands through the silky newly-
washed strands.
'At least I'll be able to pick you out from a crowd
of hundreds, Hetty,' he said. 'No one could ever have
as red hair as you. There! You look lovely now.'
I gave him a fierce hug.
'Careful! You'll crease your pinafore,' said Jem.
'I hate silly pinafores,' I said.
Oh, how I longed to be barefoot in my old flower-
sprigged cotton dress, ready for a day's larking with
my dear brother. I clutched him harder and he held
me fast.
'Ready, children?' Mother called.
She had Gideon dressed now, but he was still half
asleep, his eyes drooping. We went downstairs and
Mother cut us bread and poured us milk. I was too
fearful to eat and Gideon too tired. I sat on Jem's
lap and Gideon sat on Mother's. It was as if we'd
regressed five years and were back to being little
babies.
'It's time to go,' said Mother.
Gideon wriggled a little, looking puzzled.
'Come on, my pet. Let Mother carry you,' she
said, hoisting him up in her arms.
He held his wooden elephant tight by the trunk.
I had my dear old rag baby and my new horse, but
I wished Jem had made it for me and not Nat. But
Jem had another gift for me, a tiny present in a
twist of rag. I opened it up carefully and found a
silver sixpence, polished until it shone. I stared at
it in awe.
'I earned it running errands. I'll earn you many
more sixpences,' Jem whispered earnestly. 'Then,
when you're bigger, I can take you to the circus in
style.'
'Oh, Jem!' I said. 'Dear, dear Jem.'
'Keep it safe in your pinafore pocket. You can
spend it on anything you like.'
I held the sixpence tight in my hand. I knew I
would never be tempted to spend a penny of it. I
would do my level best to hang onto it for ever.
Father was already out at the farm and Nat
and the girls were still asleep. Even baby Eliza
was quiet in her cradle. I could not say goodbye to
them, so instead I whispered goodbye to my little
stool and the scrubbed table and the coloured
pictures on the walls. They were mostly scenes
from the Bible – baby Jesus in the stable, Joseph
in his coloured coat and Daniel in the lions' den.
The picture I liked best hung halfway up the
stairs: two chubby children in nightgowns with a
tall white guardian angel spreading his wings over
them protectively.
I ran up to the angel picture and said goodbye.
As I turned back to Jem and Mother and Gideon, I
fancied I heard a beat of big wings, a sudden breeze
in the thick air of the cottage, as if the angel had
stepped right out of the picture and was arching his
wings over me.
I tried hard to picture him above us as we trudged
down the lane towards the village. We got to the
crossroads – and there was Sam waiting with his
horse and cart. Gideon clapped his hands, totally
misunderstanding. He thought this was a special
shopping day. Sam was taking us to town to buy new
clothes or new boots, a new kettle or a set of china
plates or a washstand, and perhaps a toffee apple or
a sugar cane for us children if we were very good.
'Well, the little lad doesn't seem too down-
hearted,' Sam said, chucking him under the chin.
'The little missy looks mournful though, bless her.'
'Say goodbye to Jem now, Hetty,' said Mother,
lifting Gideon up into the cart.
'No! No!' I said, tears spilling.
'I'll come on the cart with you,' said Jem. 'Hush,
Hetty, I'm coming too.'
'You'll miss a morning's school,' said Mother.
'What's school, when I can be with Hetty an hour
longer?' said Jem.
'You can't come, Jem. Sam has business in town
and won't be able to take you back in the cart.'
'Then I'll walk back,' said Jem. He said it as if
seven miles was a
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