Though she was dying to know what had brought her daughter home, the story would not spoil by keeping.

Besides, though she was in a pet with Dobson, she did not want to give him offence and she tried to make amends for her angry outburst by bestowing upon him extra graciousness.
Before long Hannah was quite able to attend single-handed to the few lingerers, and Mrs.Fenton went upstairs, eager to empty her vial of suppressed temper on "that chit," as she generally called Lavinia.
She entered her own bedroom expecting to find the girl there, but Lavinia had no fancy for invading her mother's domains and had gone into the garret where Hannah slept.

Dead with fatigue, mentally and bodily, she had thrown herself dressed as she was on Hannah's bed and in a few minutes was in a heavy sleep.

But before doing so she slipped under the bolster something she was holding in her left hand.

It was the purse forced upon her by Lancelot Vane.
Mrs.Fenton stood for a minute or so looking at her daughter.