hem divide
the flowers and put some in water in each window, a proceeding
afterwards dimly visible to Mr Chute, who did not feel at all pleased.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

INSPECTION DAY.

"I should put on my best silk this morning, Hazel," said Mrs Thorne,
unrolling the broad white strings of her widow's cap and rolling them
the reverse way to make them lie flat.

"Put on my best silk, dear!" said Hazel, aghast.

"Now, that is what I don't like in you, Hazel," cried Mrs Thorne
dictatorially. "You profess to be so economical, and grudge every
little outlay for the house, but directly I propose to you anything that
affects your personal vanity you are up in arms."

"My dear mother, you mistake me."

"Oh, dear me, no, Hazel. I may be a poor, suffering, weak woman, but I
have not lived to my years through trouble and tribulation without being
able to read a young girl's heart. That silk is old-fashioned now, I
know, but it is quite good enough for the purpose, and yet has
sufficient tone about it, having been made by a first-class dressmaker,
to let the inspector see that you are a lady."

"My dear mother," began Hazel.

"Now, don't interrupt me, Hazel. I do not often interfere, but there
are times, as I told Mr Lambent when he called last, when I feel bound
to make some little corrections in your ways. You must let Her
Majesty's inspector see that you are a lady, and who knows what may
happen! He may be so struck by the fact that he finds a real lady in
charge of this school that he will feel bound to make you an offer of
marriage. Mr Lambent assured me that he was a very gentlemanly man and
tolerably young. By-the-way, Hazel, have you noticed how very kind and
attentive Mr Lambent is?"

"Yes, mother. He is very good and considerate, and thanked me yesterday
for the efforts I have made with the school."

"Quite right; so he ought. But as I was saying about Her Majesty's
inspector, you must let him see that you are a lady by birth and
education."

"My dear mother, I think the inspector must find that the majority of
schoolmistresses are ladylike, and of course highly educated."

"I am talking about my daughter," said Mrs Thorne, who had great
difficulty in getting her cap-strings to lie flat. "I wish you to
impress upon him, Hazel, that you are a lady; in fact I feel it to be my
duty to speak to him myself."

"My dearest mother!"

"Now, pray do not be so rash and impetuous, my dear," said the