“The result of a little speculation in which I was engaged with poor Thorne, my dear child,” he said; but that failed fast, and as Hazel toiled on at her task of giving lessons to three or four pupils she had got together, she looked blankly forward at the future, and wondered what they all would do.
It was nearly six months since her father’s death, and she could not conceal the fact from herself that they were rapidly going down-hill. Instead of Percy being a help, he was an expense; and everything depended upon her. Under the circumstances, the only prospect open to her was to start a school; but while the grass was growing the steed was starving, and she used to look with envy at the smart well-dressed mistress of the national school hard by, with her troop of girls who came pouring out at noon; and at last came like an inspiration the idea—why should not she get a post as mistress?
To think was to act, and she boldly called on the mistress, who sent her away terribly dejected, with the information that at least a year’s training in the system, however well educated the would-be teacher might be, was absolutely necessary. Hazel, however, obtained a good deal of information as well, ready to ponder over—how she might either go to Whitelands or to Smith Square, Westminster; what would be the cost; the probabilities of her obtaining a school afterwards; the salary; etcetera, etcetera.
She went back in despair, for how could the money be obtained to pay her expenses and keep house as well, while the idea of obtaining a school at the end of a year’s training, with a certain salary and a comfortable home, seemed so Eden-like a prospect that the difficulties to be surmounted appeared to grow.
Like all other difficulties, however, they began to shrink when boldly attacked. Hazel wrote to two or three relatives, as a forlorn hope, and they who had before only doled out a few pounds unwillingly, jumped at the chance of getting the indigent applicant off their hands, and after a consultation, wrote to her saying they were so pleased with her efforts at self-help, that amongst them they would subscribe the funds for paying her fees, at the training institution and for maintaining Mrs Thorne and the children for a year, or such time as Hazel should get a school.
“Oh, mamma, mamma, sunshine at last,” cried the girl, and trembling, weeping, and laughing hysterically, in turn, so great was her joy, she read the letter, which came upon Mrs Thorne as a surprise, her child having kept her quite in ignorance of the plans to prevent disappointment.
“Then, I think it very disgraceful, very disgraceful indeed, Hazel,” said the poor woman indignantly. “They ought to be ashamed of themselves.”
“Ashamed, dear mother!”
“Now, don’t you turn against me in my troubles, Hazel,” cried Mrs Thorne. “What have I done that my own child should begin to degrade me?”
“Degrade you? Oh, my own dear mother!”