Part 28 (1/2)
”Flowers!” said Hazel, as a thought flashed across her mind.
”Well, there now, if that ain't them upon your desk, nuss! That's my love-lies-bleeding, and London-tuft, and roses. Oh, just wait till I get hold on her. Did she bring 'em to you, miss?”
”Yes, Mrs Potts; she brought me the nosegay. I am very sorry that she should have done such a thing without asking leave.”
”I ain't got much about the house that's nice to look at,” said the woman, gazing wistfully at the flowers; ”and she's been and cutten it all away. But only just wait till I get her home.”
”Don't punish the girl, Mrs Potts,” said Hazel quietly. ”I think it was from thoughtlessness. Ophelia knew I was fond of flowers, and brought them for me. I will talk to her about it. Indeed I am very sorry that she should do such a thing.”
”Well, miss, if so be as you're fond o' flowers, and will give her a good talking to, why I won't say no more about it. Ah, you bad gal!”
This was accompanied by a threatening gesture from the stout lady's fist, which, however, did not seem to cause Miss Feelier Potts much alarm, that young personage only looking half defiantly at her parent, and as soon as the latter's eyes were removed, indulging herself by making a few derisive gestures.
”You will take the flowers back with you, Mrs Potts. I am very sorry.”
”Which I just won't, miss, so now then,” said the woman sharply. ”If you like flowers, miss, you shall have 'em; and if you could make a better gal of that Feelier, I'm sure there ain't nothing I wouldn't do for you. And now, as my water's all getting cold, I must be off!”
”But you said that you wished Ophelia to come home and help you. I don't like the girls being kept away, but of course it is her duty to help you at a time like this. Ophelia Potts.”
”Yes, teacher; please I wasn't talking,” said Feelier sharply.
”Come here.”
”No, no, miss, you let her 'bide, and when I'm gone just you give her a good talking to.”
”And you will not punish her, Mrs Potts?”
”No, miss, I'll leave it all to you;” and, quite tamed down by the quiet dignity of the young mistress, Mrs Potts returned to her soap and soda, and the little ”bairn” that Feelier was to attend enjoyed itself upon the doorstep, off which it fell on an average about once every quarter of an hour, and yelled till it was lifted up by its mother's wet hands, shaken, and b.u.mped down again, when it returned to its former sport with its playthings, which consisted of four pebbles and an old shoe, the former being placed in the latter with solemn care, and shaken out again with steady persistency, the greatest gratification being obtained therefrom.
Meanwhile Hazel had an interview with Feelier, who listened attentively to ”teacher's” remarks anent the objectionable plan of stealing other people's goods when a present is intended in another direction, all of which Miss Feelier quietly imbibed, and, mentally quoting the words of common use with her brothers, she said, ”She'd be blowed if she'd bring teacher any more flowers, so there now!” while on being allowed to go back to her place she solaced herself by giving Ann Straggalls a severe pinch on the arm, and making her utter a loud cry.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.
MRS THORNE DISCOURSES.
”Ah, my child, when will you grow wise?” said Mrs Thorne one day when Hazel, making an effort to master her weariness, was bustling in and out of the room with an ap.r.o.n on, her dress pinned up, and her sleeves drawn up over her elbows, leaving her white arms bare.
”Grow wise, dear! What do you mean?”
”Leave off doing work like a charwoman day after day, when you might be riding in your carriage, as I told Mrs Chute only this afternoon.”
”You told Mrs Chute so this afternoon, mother! Has she been here?”
”Of course she has, Hazel,” cried Mrs Thorne with asperity. ”Do you suppose because I am humbled in my position in life I am going to give up all society? Of course I look upon it as a degradation to have to a.s.sociate with a woman like Mrs Chute--a very vulgar woman indeed; but if my daughter chooses to place me in such a position as this I must be amiable and kind to my neighbours. She is a very good sort of woman in her way, but I let her know the differences in our position, and--yes, of course I did--told her that my daughter might be riding in her carriage now if she liked, instead of drudging at her school; for I'm sure, though he did not say so, Edward Geringer would have kept a brougham for you at least, if you would only consent, even now, to be his wife. Why, only last week he said--”
”Mother, have you heard from Mr Geringer again?” cried Hazel, whose cheeks were crimsoning.
”Of course I have, my dear child. Why should I not hear from so old a friend? He said that if you would reconsider your determination he should be very, very glad.”