"Why, Ernie to be sure. He's always bringing shame upon me."
"He's worth twice the other," cried Mr. Pigott, letting off steam.
"Ah, yes, you've got your favourites, Mr. Pigott!" retorted the woman.
"And I'm not the only one!" answered the outraged schoolmaster. "Ern's a boy. And boys will be boys, as we all know. But he's a little gentleman, Ern is. He's his father over again."
The comparison of Ernie to his father, however well intentioned, always touched Mrs. Caspar on the raw. Her eyes sparkled. Every now and then she reminded you forcibly that her grandmother had lived in a by-street—off Greyhound Road, Fulham.
"Ah," she muttered vengefully, "I'll cut his little liver out yet, you'll see."
Mr. Pigott rounded on her, genuinely shocked.
"And you a religious woman!" he cried. "Shame on you!"
"I don't care," answered Mrs. Caspar. "I see it coming. I always have. And it's just more than I can bear."
Mr. Pigott did not understand the cause of the woman's emotion, but he recognized that it was genuine and so respected it.