“Jack, go straight up to the bath room,” said his aunt.
“And the neighbors came in, Mrs. Seymour to talk through that funnel, and then Miss Armitage and the doctor,” went on Bridget.
“It’s a pity one can’t stir out of the house without something happening,” sobbed the mistress. “And we’re both so tired.”
“There dear, come up stairs.” Florence took Mrs. Borden by the arm, and they ascended together. “Now I’ll go and look after Jack.”
She put a big apron over her dress. Jack sat on the bath room floor crying. 198
“Get up and take off those dirty things. Come, your father will soon be home and I don’t know what he’ll do to you,” said his aunt.
“He may strap me if he likes, but I ain’t going to be called a snotnosed scabby sneak of a devil—”
“Hush! hush! I won’t listen to such a talk—”
“—And he slapped me in the face, and I kicked his shins good, and then we fit and I give him a punch in the belly and a good bunk in the eye—”
“Stop Jack, I won’t hear another word. Let me get you washed up. There comes your father.”