hurry. Come and sit down, and let's all be waiting for her. It will be
such fun. She will be so surprised when she comes down."

Mrs Thorne felt relieved, for she was afraid that the child had seen
her with the notes, and that might have interfered with her plans.

"I'm sure it is quite time your sister was down, my dear," said the lady
indignantly. "I don't know how she expects the wretched children she
teaches to be punctual, if she is so late herself." And assuming an
aspect of dignified, injured state, she seated herself at the table, the
children smothering their mirth as they also sat down, one on either
side, and watched the door.

Hazel hurried down directly after, to come hastily into the little
kitchen, where, reading the children's faces, she felt the tears rush
into her eyes with the emotion caused by the pleasant innocent surprise,
and went and kissed them both before saluting her mother, who kept up
her childish, injured air.

"Really, Hazel, my dear, I think when I do come down that you might
study me a little, and not leave everything to these poor children. It
comes very hard upon me, to see them driven to such menial duties, when
their sister might place us all in a state of opulence. It seems very
hard--very hard indeed."

Hazel glanced at her, but did not speak. There was that, however, in
her eyes which told of mingled reproach and pity, emotions that the weak
woman could not read, as she took the tea handed to her, sipping it
slowly with an injured sigh.

"Were there any letters, mother!" said Hazel, when breakfast was half
over and she had glanced at the clock, for Feelier Potts had been for
the schoolroom key, and already there were distant echoing sounds of
voices and footsteps in the great room, which told of the arrival of the
scholars.

Mrs Thorne did not reply.

"Were there any letters, mother dear?" said Hazel again.

"Pass me the bread and butter, Mab, my child," said Mrs Thorne,
colouring slightly, while Hazel looked at her with wonder.

"There were three letters for you, Hazy," cried Cissy sharply.

"Cissy! How dare you say such a thing?" cried Mrs Thorne.

"Please, ma, I met the postman when I went for the milk, and the postman
told me so, and I saw him afterwards showing them to Mr Chute."

"You wicked--Oh, of course, yes. I forgot," said Mrs Thorne hastily,
as she encountered her daughter's eye fixed upon her with such a look of
reproach that she shivered, a