"I am not ready with the accounts, Mr Piper; but I will see to them at
once, and--"
"Oh, all right: I'm in no hurry," he replied; and Hazel's heart gave a
leap of relief, but only to sink down heavily the next moment, as he
continued--"I always give one morning a year to this job, so get the
money and a pen and ink, and I'll soon run through it with you."
"You misunderstood me, Mr Piper," faltered Hazel, whose cheeks began to
burn before turning pale with shame. "I have made up the account but I
have not the money ready."
"Couldn't have made out the account properly without the money counted
out ready," he said triumphantly.
"I checked it by the sums I had put down each week, Mr Piper," said
Hazel.
"To be sure. Well, it won't take us long to count the money out."
"But I have not the money by me," said Hazel desperately, for she could
make no excuse at the moment.
"Oh!" said Mr Piper slowly, as he made a curious rasping noise by
rubbing a rough finger upon his closely-shaven cheek: "have not got the
money by you."
"No; not at present," faltered Hazel; and once more the tell-tale blush
came flushing to her cheeks.
"Oh!" said Mr Piper again; and his interjection was as long as a
ten-syllable word.
"I will send or bring it up to you in a few days."
"Oh!" said Mr Piper once more, and he took out his pocket-book at the
same time, but made no attempt to go. He slowly took a pencil from a
sheath at the side, and examined its point before thrusting it in again,
as if trying very hard to make sure that it was a fit.
Hazel was in agony, and would have given anything to be alone, but Mr
Piper went on testing the depth of his pencil-sheath in the leather
pocket-book, and drawing the pencil out again.
"You see, it always has been paid upon the morning I said I'd call.
I've got Mr Chute's money in here."
He slapped his breeches-pocket twice in a very emphatic manner, and
looked at Hazel the while, as if asking her to deny it if she dared.
"I--I was taken rather by surprise," faltered Hazel.
"Nay, nay," said the churchwarden; "I gave you a day's notice."
"Yes," said Hazel, "but I was not ready. I will send or bring the
amount in a few days, Mr Piper."
"I wanted to have made up my accounts," he said, gazing still at his
pencil and pocket-book in a meditative way. "You see, it puts me out,
being a business-man. I have all this churchwarden work to do, and
don't get nothing by it, and it puts me wrong when things go contrary
like, and I can't get in the accounts. Now, your pence, for instance--I
ought to have had them a month ago."
"I am very sorry, sir, but I was not aware when they ought to be paid
in."
"You see, I make up all these parish things regular like, and if I can't
get the money in it throws me all out."
"I am very sorry, Mr Piper."
"Yes," he said, turning his pencil upside down, and trying whether it
would go in the reverse way; "but, you see, that don't help a busy man.
I give up one morning like this every year to the school accounts, and
dress myself"--he glanced at the sleeve of his black coat--"and come
down, and if the money isn't ready, you see, it throws me out."
"Yes, I understand, Mr Piper," faltered Hazel; "and I am very sorry."
"Yes," he continued, trying to coax the pencil down by giving it a
revolving movement, which succeeded better, though not well, for the
leather of the pencil-sheath was getting worn with use, and it went into
so many folds that Mr Piper had to withdraw the pencil and try it in
the proper way--"Yes, it is a nuisance to a busy man," he continued. "I
don't know why I go on doing this parish work, for it never pleases
nobody, and takes up a deal of a man's time. I wouldn't do it, only Mr
Lambent as good as begs of me not to give it up. P'r'aps you'll give me
what you have in hand, miss."
"Give you what I have in hand?" said Hazel.
"Yes! Part on account you know, and send me the rest."
"I cannot, Mr Piper. I am not prepared," said Hazel, who felt ready to
sink with shame, and the degradation of being importuned at such a time.
"Can't you give me any of it on account--some of your own money, you
know, miss!"
"I really cannot sir; but I will endeavour to pay it over as soon as
possible."
"Within a week?"
"I--I think so," faltered Hazel.
Rap went the book open, and Mr Piper's pencil was going as if it was
taking down an order for "grosheries," making a note to the effect that
Miss Thorne could not pay the school pence upon the proper day, but
would pay it within a week.
Hazel stood and shivered, for it was horrible to see how business-like
Mr Piper could be; and though she could not see the words he wrote, she
mentally read them, and wondered how it would be possible to meet the
engagement. Still, it was a respite, disgraceful as it seemed, and she
felt her spirits rise as the churchwarden wrote away as busily as a
commercial traveller who has just solicited what he calls a "line."
All this time the school-door was standing partly open, as if some one
was waiting to come in, but Hazel was too intent to see.
"That'll do, then, for that," said the churchwarden, shutting his book
on the pencil and then peering sidewise like a magpie into one of the
pockets, from which he extracted a carefully folded piece of blue paper,
at the top of which was written very neatly, "Miss Thorne."
"As I was coming down, miss, I thought it would be a good chance for
speaking to you about your account, miss, which keeps on getting too
much behindhand; so p'r'aps you'll give me something on account of that
and pay the rest off as quick as you can."
"Your account, Mr Piper?" said Hazel, taking the paper.
"Yes, miss. Small profits and quick returns is my motter. I don't
believe in giving credit--'tain't my way. I should never get on if I
did."
"But you mistake, Mr Piper; everything we have had of you has been paid
for at the time, or at the end of the week."
"Don't look like it, miss. When people won't have nothing but my finest
Hyson and Shoesong, and a bottle of the best port every week, bottles
regularly returned, of course a bill soon runs up."
"But surely--" cried Hazel.
"Oh, you'll find it all right there, miss; every figure's my own putting
down. I always keep my own books myself, so it's all right."
"Have you nearly done, Mr Piper?" said Miss Lambent, speaking sweetly,
as she stood with Beatrice at the door. "Pray don't hurry: we can wait.
Our time's not so valuable as yours."
"Just done, miss--just done, miss. You'll find that quite right, Miss
Thorne--eleven pun fifteen nine and a half. S'pose you give me six this
morning and let the other stand for a week or two?"
"Mr Piper, I must examine the bill," said Hazel hoarsely. "I did not
know that I was indebted to you more than half-a-sovereign."
"Oh, you'll find that all right miss, all right. Can you let me have a
little on account?"
"I cannot this morning!" cried Hazel desperately.
"May we come in now?" said Rebecca Lambent.
"Yes, miss, come in," said the churchwarden, closing his pocket-book as
Hazel crushed this last horror in her hand in a weak dread lest it
should be seen.
"So you've been collecting the school accounts as usual, Mr Piper,"
said Beatrice, smiling. "How much do they amount to this time? My
brother will be so anxious to know."
Out came Mr Piper's pocket-book again, the pencil was drawn from its
sheath, and the page found.
"Boys' pence for the year ending the blank day of blank eighteen
blank," read Mr Piper, "thirty-two pound seven shillings and
eightpence-ha'penny: though I can't quite make out that ha'penny."
"And the girls', Mr Piper--how much is that?"
"Well, you see, Miss Thorne ain't ready 'm yet so I can't tell. It's no
use for me to put down the sum till I get the money. Good morning,
miss. Good morning, miss. It's a busy time with me, so I must go."
The churchwarden left the schoolroom, his hat still upon his head, and
Hazel was left face to face with her friends from the Vicarage.
"Had you not better call Mr Piper back, Miss Thorne," said Rebecca.
"Shall I call him, Miss Thorne?" said Beatrice eagerly.
"No, ma'am, I thank you," replied Hazel. "I explained to Mr Piper that
I was not ready for him this morning."
"But did he not send word that he was coming?" said Rebecca suavely. "I
know he always used to send down the day before."
"Yes, Miss Lambent; Mr Piper did send down, but I have not the money by
me," said Hazel desperately. "My--I mean we--had a pressing necessity
for some money, and it has been used. I will pay Mr Piper, in the
course of a few days."
Rebecca Lambent appeared to freeze as she glanced at her sister, who
also became icy.
"It is very strange," said the former.
"Quite contrary to our rules, I think, sister," replied Beatrice, "Are
you ready?"
"Yes, dear. Good morning, Miss Thorne."
"Yes; good morning, Miss Thorne," said Beatrice; and they swept out of
the school together, remaining silent for the first hundred yards or so
as they went homeward. "This is very extraordinary, Rebecca," cried
Beatrice at last, speaking with an assumption of horror and
astonishment, but with joy in her heart.
"Not at all extraordinary," said Rebecca. "I am not in the least
surprised. Unable to pay over the school pence and deeply in debt to
the grocer! I wonder what she owes to the butcher and baker?"
"And the draper!" said Beatrice malignantly. "A schoolmistress
flaunting about with a silk parasol! What does a schoolmistress want
with a parasol?"
"She is not wax," said Rebecca. "I rarely use one. And now look here,
Beattie; it is all true, then, about that boy."
"What! Miss Thorne's brother?"
"Yes; Hazel Thorne's brother. He was in trouble, then, in London, and
fled here, and it seems as if the vice is in the family. Why, it is
sheer embezzlement to keep back and spend the school pence. I wonder
what Henry will say to his favourite now?"
Meanwhile Hazel, whose head throbbed so heavily that she could hardly
bear the pain, had dismissed the girls, for it was noon, and then
hurried back to the cottage to seek her room, very rudely and sulkily,
Mrs Thorne said, for she had spoken to her child as she passed through,
but Hazel did not seem to hear.
"I sincerely hope, my dears, that when you grow up," said Mrs Thorne
didactically, "you will never behave so rudely to your poor mamma as
Hazel does."
"Hazel don't mean to be rude, ma," said Cissy in an old-fashioned way.
"She has got a bad headache, that's all. I'm going up to talk to her."
"No, Cissy; you will stay with me," said Mrs Thorne authoritatively.
"I may go, mayn't I, ma? I want to talk to Hazel," said Mab.
"You will stay where you are, my dears; and I sincerely hope to be able
to teach you both how to comport yourself towards your mamma. Hazel, I
am sorry to say, has a good deal changed."
A good deal, truly; for she looked ghastly now, as she knelt by the bed,
holding her aching head, and praying for help and strength of mind to
get through her present difficulties and those which were to come.