The New Mistress — George Manville Fenn

“Remember, Hazel,” said Mrs Thorne, “remember this -- we may be reduced in circumstances; we may have been compelled by misfortune to come down into this wretched little town, and to live in this miserable, squeezy, poorly-furnished house or cottage, with the light kept out by the yellow glass, and scarcely a chimney that does not smoke; we may be compelled to dress shab -- ” “Yes, yes, mother dear -- ” “Bily,” said Mrs Thorne, with indignant emphasis on account of the interruption, “but remember this, Hazel, you are a lady.” “Forgive me for interrupting you, mother.” “Mamma, Hazel,” said the lady, drawing herself up with great dignity. “If we are by a cruel stroke of fate compelled to live in a state of indigence when pride has made my eldest child refuse the assistance of my relatives, I still maintain that I have a right to keep up my old and ladylike title -- mamma.” “But, dear, I am only a schoolmistress now -- a national schoolmistress, and it would sound full of foolish assumption if I called you mamma. And are you not my dear, dear mother! There, there, good-bye, dear,” cried the speaker, kissing her affectionately; “and mind the dinner is done, for I shall be, -- oh, so hungry.”