"But, my dear sir," the urbane uncle interposed, "I am her natural guardian, don't you see. Joseph is a good boy—a very superior youth, in fact—but he is only a boy. It is my duty, as her nearest male relative, standing in the place of her father, to attend to her affairs at this juncture."
"I merely wanted to say," proceeded Jenny, with an air of resolution, "that I wish to please those who have been so good to me—who have not despised me because of what I did to make a living. I will not wait in the tea-room again—for their sakes; and of course my mother and sister must not work there without me. I will think of something else, that shall not—not be disagreeable to anybody."
"You don't want to think any more, Jenny," said Anthony quietly. "I am going to do the thinking now."
"Still," urged Mrs. Rogerson, with tardy generosity and misguided zeal, "we can't allow you to be saddled with my sister and her children, Mr. Churchill. They must not live on your money."
"They won't," said Jenny.
"I know they won't," said Anthony, "if they are made of the same stuff as you. But please leave all that now, dear. And go to bed, or you will be tired for your journey to-morrow."
On the way to his hotel he confounded the impudence of her relatives in many bad words, and laughed at the notion that she was going to "boss" the family arrangements as heretofore.