Mrs Thorne laid the envelopes before her with the addresses uppermost.
“‘Miss Thorne, The Schools, Plumton All Saints,’ all addressed the same. This, then, is the reason why poor Edward Geringer has been refused.”
Here there was another examination of the postmarks.
“Three gentlemen, and all living at Plumton. Now, really, Hazel, it is not proper. It is not ladylike. One gentleman would have been bad enough, in clandestine correspondence; though, perhaps, if there had been two it would be because she had not quite made up her mind. But three gentlemen! It is positively disgraceful, and I shall stop it at once!”
This time, in changing the position of the letters, Mrs Thorne turned them upside down.
“I remember at the time poor Thorne was paying me attentions how Mr Deputy Cheaply and Mr Meriton, of the Common Council, both wished to pay me attentions as well; but, no: I said it would not be correct. And I little thought, after all my efforts, that a child of mine would be so utterly forgetful of her self-respect as to behave like this. Ah, Hazel! Hazel! It is no wonder that the silver threads begin to appear fast in my poor hair.”
Mrs Thorne placed the envelopes beneath her apron as the two children came bustling in, one with the cloth, and the other with the bread-trencher, to prepare the breakfast.
“Hazel’s fast asleep, ma, and we’re going to get breakfast ready ourselves.”
“I’m sure I don’t know why your sister can’t come down, my dears,” said Mrs Thorne pettishly. “It is very thoughtless of her, knowing, as she does, how poorly I am.”
“Sis Hazy has got a very bad headache, mamma; and we dressed quietly and came down and lit the fire quite early.”