"Sis Hazy has got a very bad headache, mamma; and we dressed quietly and came down and lit the fire quite early."

"Oh, it was you lit the fire, was it!" said Mrs Thorne. "I thought it was one of the schoolgirls."

"No; it was us, ma dear; and when we've made the tea we're going to take poor Hazy a cup in bed."

"Whoever can these letters be from?" said Mrs Thorne to herself, as she turned them over and over in her hands, growing quite flushed and excited the while. "I declare I don't know when I have felt so hurt and troubled;" and going into the little parlour, leaving the children busy over the preparations, she once more examined them carefully, and ended by taking out her scissors.

"I don't care!" she exclaimed; "it is my duty as Hazel's mamma to watch over her, and I should not be doing that duty if I did not see who are the gentlemen who correspond with her."

Mrs Thorne hesitated a few minutes longer, and then the itching sensation of curiosity proved to be too much for the poor woman, and taking the pair of finely-pointed scissors, she slit open the three envelopes, and then started guiltily, thrust them into her pocket, and went into the kitchen.

"Did I hear Hazel coming down?" she said sharply.

"No, ma. Mab just went up and found her fast asleep."

Mrs Thorne went back into the parlour, hesitated a few moments longer, and then opened the first letter, to find that it contained five ten-pound notes, all new and crisp, and with them a sheet of note-paper bearing the words:--

"Will Miss Thorne accept the help of a very sincere friend?"

That was all.

"Well, I am sure!" exclaimed Mrs Thorne, staring at the crisp notes, re-reading the words upon the note-paper, and then hurriedly replacing notes and paper in the envelope. "Now, who can that be from?"

The second envelope was then opened, and, to Mrs Thorne's intense astonishment, it contained ten five-pound notes, also crisp and new, and with them the simple words:--

"With the hope that they may be useful. From a friend."

"I never did in all my life!" exclaimed Mrs Thorne, now beginning to perspire profusely, as she hurriedly replaced the second batch of notes, and then with trembling fingers opened the last envelope, which contained six five-pound notes, carefully enclosed in a second envelope, but without a word.

"Only thirty pounds," said Mrs Thorne, "only thirty, and without a word. Well, all I can say is, that whoever sent it is rather mean.

Now, who can have sent these banknotes? Well, of course, it is on account of that paltry sum in school pence being required, and it is very kind, but I don't think I ought to allow Hazel to receive money like this. Really, it is a very puzzling thing, and I wish Edward Geringer was here."

The notes were returned to the third envelope, and Mrs Thorne sat there very thoughtful, and looking extremely perplexed.

"No; I certainly shall not let Hazel have this money. A girl at her time of life might be tempted into a great many follies of dress if she had it and I shall certainly keep it from her."

With a quiet self-satisfied smile, she placed the notes in her pocket and was in the act of rising, when she turned and saw Cissy at the door.

"Well, what is it?" said Mrs Thorne sharply.

"Breakfast's ready, ma dear; and I can hear Hazy dressing in such a hurry. Come and sit down, and let's all be waiting for her. It will be such fun. She will be so surprised when she comes down."

Mrs Thorne felt relieved, for she was afraid that the child had seen her with the notes, and that might have interfered with her plans.

"I'm sure it is quite time your sister was down, my dear," said the lady indignantly. "I don't know how she expects the wretched children she teaches to be punctual, if she is so late herself." And a.s.suming an aspect of dignified, injured state, she seated herself at the table, the children smothering their mirth as they also sat down, one on either side, and watched the door.

Hazel hurried down directly after, to come hastily into the little kitchen, where, reading the children's faces, she felt the tears rush into her eyes with the emotion caused by the pleasant innocent surprise, and went and kissed them both before saluting her mother, who kept up her childish, injured air.

"Really, Hazel, my dear, I think when I do come down that you might study me a little, and not leave everything to these poor children. It comes very hard upon me, to see them driven to such menial duties, when their sister might place us all in a state of opulence. It seems very hard--very hard indeed."

Hazel glanced at her, but did not speak. There was that, however, in her eyes which told of mingled reproach and pity, emotions that the weak woman could not read, as she took the tea handed to her, sipping it slowly with an injured sigh.

"Were there any letters, mother!" said Hazel, when breakfast was half over and she had glanced at the clock, for Feelier Potts had been for the schoolroom key, and already there were distant echoing sounds of voices and footsteps in the great room, which told of the arrival of the scholars.

Mrs Thorne did not reply.

"Were there any letters, mother dear?" said Hazel again.

"Pa.s.s me the bread and b.u.t.ter, Mab, my child," said Mrs Thorne, colouring slightly, while Hazel looked at her with wonder.

"There were three letters for you, Hazy," cried Cissy sharply.

"Cissy! How dare you say such a thing?" cried Mrs Thorne.

"Please, ma, I met the postman when I went for the milk, and the postman told me so, and I saw him afterwards showing them to Mr Chute."

"You wicked--Oh, of course, yes. I forgot," said Mrs Thorne hastily, as she encountered her daughter's eye fixed upon her with such a look of reproach that she shivered, and in her abject weakness coloured like a detected schoolgirl.

"Will you give me the letters, mamma?" said Hazel, holding out her hand.

"Don't call me mamma like that, Hazel," said Mrs Thorne, with a weak attempt at holding her position; but her daughter's outstretched hand was sufficient to make her tremblingly take the letters from her pocket and pa.s.s them across the table.

"You have opened them, mamma!" said Hazel.

"Once more, Hazel, I must beg of you not to call me _mamma_ like that!"

exclaimed Mrs Thorne. "I have always noticed that it is done when you are angry."

"I said you have opened them, mamma!"

"Of course I have, my dear. I should not be doing my duty as your mother if I did not see for myself who are the cla.s.s of people with whom you hold clandestine correspondence."

"You know, mother," said Hazel firmly, "that I should never think of corresponding with any one without your approval."

"Then, pray, what do those letters mean?"

"I do not know," said Hazel quietly; and she opened them one by one, saw their contents, read the notes that accompanied two, and then, letting her face go down upon her hands she uttered a loud sob.

"Now, that is being foolish, Hazel," cried her mother. "Children, leave the table! Or, no, it will be better that your sister and I should retire. No; take your breakfasts into the other room, children, and I will talk to your sister here."

"Don't cry, Hazy," whispered Cissy, clinging to her sister affectionately.

"Don't speak cross to Hazel, please ma," whispered Mab.

"Silence, disobedient children!" cried the poor woman in tragic tones.

"Leave the room, I desire."

Hazel felt cut to the heart with sorrow, misery, and despair. The increasing mental weakness of her mother, and her growing lack of moral appreciation of right and wrong, were agonising to her; and at that moment she felt as if this new trouble about the letters was a judgment upon her for opening those addressed to her mother, though it was done to save her from pain. To some people the airs and a.s.sumptions of Mrs Thorne would have been food for mirth; but to Hazel the mental pain was intense. Knowing what the poor woman had been previous to her troubles, this childishness was another pang; and often and often, when ready to utter words of reproach, she changed them to those of tenderness and consideration.