like. Come, dear, try and be
content a little longer, and all will be right in the end."

"Hazel," cried Mrs Thorne angrily, "I insist upon your giving up this
school at once!"

"My dear mother!"

"Now, no excuses, Hazel I say I insist upon your giving up this school
at once, and I will be obeyed. Do you forget that I am your mother? Is
my own child to rise up in rebellion against me? How dare you? How
dare you, I say?"

"But my dear mother, if we decide to leave, where are we to go? Where
is the money to pay for our removal? You know as well as I do that, in
spite of my care, we are some pounds in the tradespeople's debt."

"Now she throws that in my face, when I have worked so hard to make both
ends meet, and cut and contrived over the housekeeping, thinking and
striving and straining, and now this is my reward!"

"I do not blame you, dear," said Hazel sadly; "I only think it was a
pity that you should have ordered goods for which we had not the money
to pay."

"And was I--a lady--to go on living in the mean, sordid, penurious way
you proposed, Hazel? Shame upon you! Where is your respect for your
wretched, unhappy parent?"

It was in Hazel's heart to say, half angrily, "Oh, mother, dear mother,
pray do not go on so!" but she simply replied, "I know, dear, that it is
very hard upon you, but we are obliged to live within our means."

"Yes: thanks to you, Hazel," retorted her mother. "I might be living at
ease, as a lady should, if my child were considerate, and had not given
her heart to selfishness and a downright direct love of opposition to
her parent's wishes."

"Dear mother," cried Hazel piteously, "indeed I do try hard to study you
in everything."

"It ought to want no trying, Hazel. It ought to be the natural outcome
of your heart if you were a good and affectionate child. Study me,
indeed! See what you have brought me to! Did I ever expect to go about
in these wretched, shabby, black things, do you suppose--I--I, who had
as many as two dozen dresses upon the hooks in my wardrobe at one time?
Oh, Hazel, if you would conquer the stubbornness of that heart!"

"My dear mother, I must go and put away the dinner-things; but I do not
like to leave you like this."

"Oh, pray go, madam; and follow your own fancies to the top of your
bent. I am only your poor, weak mother, and what I say or do matters
very little. Never mind me, I shall soon be dead and cold in my grave."

"Oh, my dear m