Meanwhile Hazel, whose head throbbed so heavily that she could hardly bear the pain, had dismissed the girls, for it was noon, and then hurried back to the cottage to seek her room, very rudely and sulkily, Mrs Thorne said, for she had spoken to her child as she passed through, but Hazel did not seem to hear.
“I sincerely hope, my dears, that when you grow up,” said Mrs Thorne didactically, “you will never behave so rudely to your poor mamma as Hazel does.”
“Hazel don’t mean to be rude, ma,” said Cissy in an old-fashioned way. “She has got a bad headache, that’s all. I’m going up to talk to her.”
“No, Cissy; you will stay with me,” said Mrs Thorne authoritatively.
“I may go, mayn’t I, ma? I want to talk to Hazel,” said Mab.
“You will stay where you are, my dears; and I sincerely hope to be able to teach you both how to comport yourself towards your mamma. Hazel, I am sorry to say, has a good deal changed.”
A good deal, truly; for she looked ghastly now, as she knelt by the bed, holding her aching head, and praying for help and strength of mind to get through her present difficulties and those which were to come.