“But surely—” cried Hazel.
“Oh, you’ll find it all right there, miss; every figure’s my own putting down. I always keep my own books myself, so it’s all right.”
“Have you nearly done, Mr Piper?” said Miss Lambent, speaking sweetly, as she stood with Beatrice at the door. “Pray don’t hurry: we can wait. Our time’s not so valuable as yours.”
“Just done, miss—just done, miss. You’ll find that quite right, Miss Thorne—eleven pun fifteen nine and a half. S’pose you give me six this morning and let the other stand for a week or two?”
“Mr Piper, I must examine the bill,” said Hazel hoarsely. “I did not know that I was indebted to you more than half-a-sovereign.”
“Oh, you’ll find that all right miss, all right. Can you let me have a little on account?”
“I cannot this morning!” cried Hazel desperately.
“May we come in now?” said Rebecca Lambent.
“Yes, miss, come in,” said the churchwarden, closing his pocket-book as Hazel crushed this last horror in her hand in a weak dread lest it should be seen.
“So you’ve been collecting the school accounts as usual, Mr Piper,” said Beatrice, smiling. “How much do they amount to this time? My brother will be so anxious to know.”