Hazel gazed at her mother wonderingly, for the poor woman took hardly any interest in the household management which fell almost entirely upon her child, who found no little difficulty in keeping matters straight. And now Mrs Thorne was seizing upon this as a reason for her abstraction of the money; for she made no denial whatever, but, driven to bay, haughtily acknowledged the fact.
“Then you really did take this money, mother?”
“Of course I did, Hazel. Why should I leave it when it was lying idly there? It was absurd.”
“But, my dear mother, the money was not mine.”
“What nonsense, Hazel! What does it matter whether it was yours or not? Money’s money. The school people don’t want you to give them the very pennies that the children brought.”
“No, mother; but they want the amount.”
“Then give it to them, Hazel. My dear child, what a ridiculous fuss you do make?”
“But, mother, do you not understand—do you not see that I have no money, and no means of making it up?”
“Really, Hazel, you are too absurd,” said Mrs Thorne with forced levity. “What is the ridiculous amount?”
“Between twenty and thirty pounds.”