It was no uncommon thing for Hazel to run very short of money for housekeeping purposes, and several times over it would have been a great convenience to have made use of a portion of the school pence and replaced it from her salary; but she forbore, preferring that the sums she held in charge should remain untouched as they had come into her hands.
After expecting for what seemed a very great length of time, she at last received a beautifully written but ill-spelt letter from one of the churchwardens, requesting her to send him in a statement of the amounts received for the children’s pence, and to be prepared to hand over the money at a certain appointed time.
The letter came like a relief to her as she sat at dinner; and upon Mrs Thorne asking, in a somewhat ill-used tone, who had been writing that she was not to know of, her daughter smilingly handed her the letter.
“It was such a thorough business letter, dear, that I thought you would not care to read it.”
But Mrs Thorne took it, read it through, and passed it back without a word.
“I think you seem a good deal better, dear,” said Hazel, smiling.
“Indeed, I am not, child,” replied Mrs Thorne sharply. “I never felt worse. My health is terrible: Plumton does not agree with me, and I must have a change.”
“A change, dear?” said Hazel, sighing.
“Yes. It is dreadful this constant confinement in a little poking place. I feel sometimes as if I should be stifled. Good gracious, Hazel! what could you be thinking about to come and live in a town like this? Let’s go, my dear, and find some occupation more congenial to your spirit. I cannot bear to go on seeing how you are wasted here.”
“My dear mother!” exclaimed Hazel wonderingly.