"Let it work."

He had thought the matter out thoroughly--for the family, save for a
little consideration displayed by the creditors, were absolutely
penniless; and he let them go into lodgings, and waited to be asked for
help.

The first appeal to him was about Percy, the son; and he responded
willingly, advising sensibly and well that the lad should go into some
City office and fight his way in the world.

Hazel sighed, for she had hoped for more schooling and then a career at
college, in spite of her talk of her brother's working. So Percy went
into the office of Suthers, Rubley, and Spark, the sugar-brokers, and
came home grumbling every night.

It was hard to bear, for it upset poor weak Mrs Thorne, who sympathised
with her son, and talked of the degradation, and sighed and petted him,
calling him her noble boy, inveighing against Fate, and making the lad
ten times as discontented with his position as he had been before, and
so increased the load on Hazel's shoulders just at a time when she was
nearly broken-hearted.

For it was unmistakable: Archibald Graves, the true, the sterling, the
handsome, the best of men, had been yielding to home-pressure. Old
Graves said it was preposterous. The girl was right enough, but he was
not going to see his son throw himself away and set up a home with a
penniless girl so as to keep her mother and family as well.

Archibald Graves was indignant at first, then he thought it over. Hazel
was the nicest and dearest of girls, but certainly Mrs Thorne only
wanted a vowel left out of her name for it to describe her exactly. He
did not like Percy either, whom he thought "a spoiled young cub." Then
there were more words with his father; introductions to friends of his
sisters, especially to one Miss Pettifer, who was reputed rich, and so
on, till Archibald Graves, in following his own likings, set it all down
to his father's stern orders.

He told himself that he was only doing his duty in ceasing his visits to
the Thornes, and after nearly breaking her heart, pride came to Hazel
Thorne's help, and she grew pale and sterner of face as the weeks
passed, and no Archibald, while Edward Geringer came regularly, called
her his dear child, and went away smiling and praising himself for his
self-restraint.

It is needless to go on describing Hazel Thorne's troubles during these
months, when, in addition to the suffering produced by the falling away
of one to whom she had looke