“And why not, pray?” cried the lad defiantly.
“There is one reason why not,” said Hazel, pointing to the pipe. “You ought not to have lit that here, Percy. This is not my house, but the cottage attached to the school, in which, while I teach the children, I am allowed to live.”
“Now you’re beginning about my bit of tobacco,” cried the lad. “You’re as bad as old Geringer!”
“Really, Hazel, you are in a very, very cruel frame of mind to-night,” said Mrs Thorne, whimpering; “but never mind, my boy, you shall share my home as long as your poor mamma has one. Perhaps Hazel will give us a refuge here to-night—to-morrow we will seek one elsewhere.”
“You will do no such foolish thing, mamma,” said Hazel with spirit; “and as for you, Percy, I insist upon knowing the whole truth.”
The boy flushed and threw up his head defiantly; but Hazel rose from her place, crossed to him, and laid her hands upon his shoulders. Then, bending down, she kissed him, and stood by him with her arm round his neck.
“Tell me everything, dear,” she said; “it is your sister who asks.”
For answer Percy dashed his pipe beneath the grate, laid his arms upon the table, his head went down, and he began to cry like a great girl.
“Oh, Hazel, Hazel, what have you done?” cried Mrs Thorne. “Percy, Percy, my boy, come here.”
“Hush, mother!” said Hazel sternly; and, kneeling down, she drew the boy’s unresisting head upon her shoulder, and held it there, smoothing his hair the while.