"Afraid of losing your dignity, are you?" he said. "Well, I have my pride too, and I refuse to take it back."
Hazel pondered the situation. She was not unsympathetic with her uncle, in the rather trying predicament in which he had placed himself, and could enter into his feelings very nearly. But, strive as she might, she could not put away his unkind, nay, his cruel, words, at the beginning of their interview, spoken in pain as they were, and, mayhap, in all thoughtlessness. But they were too fresh in her memory.
"I see your difficulty," she said at length. "What shall I do?"
"Do what you will," her uncle returned testily. He was not to be worsted in the struggle.
There was a long pause, and the two combatants eyed the small, innocent-looking cause of contention, that now lay upon a little table beside them.
At length Hazel took it up, and was about to tear it to shreds and transfer it to the waste-paper basket, deeming such a course the best way to right the embarrassment, when suddenly light flooded her mind.
"I may do anything I like with it?" she demanded, her spirit rising, her eyes flashing. "Anything, and in your name, seeing that the money is not mine?"
"I don't care what you do with it," her uncle returned with asperity.
Hazel rose and rang the bell, then reseated herself and steadfastly returned her uncle's gaze of mute hostility. The door opened and the same servant appeared, silently closed the door behind him, and stood awaiting orders.
"Thomas," said Hazel.