e table surrounded by the empty wrappers, long
of snuff and mushroom topped, she began more and more to realise the
fact that at last she was face to face with a difficulty far greater
than any that she had yet been called upon to deal with since she had
been at Plumton.

It was horrible. She had to give up a heavy amount on the next day--a
sum that she held in trust--and it was missing.

What should she do? What could she do?

She could have sobbed in the agony of her heart; but she forced herself
to think--to try and make out where the money had gone.

The children would not have taken it; they did not know of its
existence. Then who could?

Percy?

Oh no, it was impossible. He had--

Oh no; she would not harbour the thought. He had been weak and foolish,
but she felt that she should scorn herself if she harboured such a
thought as that her brother would have taken the money that she had in
charge. It was too dreadful, and she would not believe it.

Then who could it be?

As she asked herself this again and again she suddenly heard a sound
below as of a chair being thrust back. Then some one rose, and there
came the opening of a door, and steps upon the stairs.

Hazel rose softly, and stood behind the dim unsnuffed candle as the
steps came higher. The door was thrust open, and the breath that Hazel
had been holding back till she felt that she must suffocate escaped with
a loud sigh, and mother and daughter stood gazing across the table at
each other.

The thought was horrible, almost maddening--but there was Mrs Thorne
with her cap half off, and her hair slightly disarranged by her
sleeping, staring in a shrinking, half-angry way before her daughter's
searching gaze.

For Hazel had no such thought before. Now it came with almost stunning
violence, and she saw in it the explanation of her mother's strange
manner that day--her sudden desire to leave Plumton at any cost, as soon
as she had read the letter containing the request for the school funds
to be given up.

Words rose to Hazel Thorne's lips, and then sank back; they rose again,
and she still remained silent. It was in her mind to ask her mother in
accusing tones what she knew of the absent money, for she, and she
alone, knew where it was kept and could have had access to the keys.

But no; those words were not uttered. She could not speak them. It was
too horrible! But Hazel's eyes accused the poor, weak woman, who waited
for nothi