Out came Mr Piper’s pocket-book again, the pencil was drawn from its sheath, and the page found.
“Boys’ pence for the year ending the blank day of blank eighteen blank,” read Mr Piper, “thirty-two pound seven shillings and eightpence-ha’penny: though I can’t quite make out that ha’penny.”
“And the girls’, Mr Piper—how much is that?”
“Well, you see, Miss Thorne ain’t ready ’m yet so I can’t tell. It’s no use for me to put down the sum till I get the money. Good morning, miss. Good morning, miss. It’s a busy time with me, so I must go.”
The churchwarden left the schoolroom, his hat still upon his head, and Hazel was left face to face with her friends from the Vicarage.
“Had you not better call Mr Piper back, Miss Thorne,” said Rebecca.
“Shall I call him, Miss Thorne?” said Beatrice eagerly.
“No, ma’am, I thank you,” replied Hazel. “I explained to Mr Piper that I was not ready for him this morning.”
“But did he not send word that he was coming?” said Rebecca suavely. “I know he always used to send down the day before.”
“Yes, Miss Lambent; Mr Piper did send down, but I have not the money by me,” said Hazel desperately. “My—I mean we—had a pressing necessity for some money, and it has been used. I will pay Mr Piper, in the course of a few days.”