"Tell him to mind his own business. He can't do anything to you."
"No;—he can't do nothing. I ain't done nothing wrong, and he can't send for the police to have me took back to Sheep's Acre. But he can talk,—and he can look. I ain't one of those, Felix, as don't mind about their characters,—so don't you think it. Shall I tell him as I'm with you?"
"Gracious goodness, no! What would you say that for?"
"I didn't know. I must say something."
"Tell him you're nothing to him."
"But aunt will be letting on about my being out late o'nights; I know she will. And who am I with? He'll be asking that."
"Your aunt does not know?"
"No;—I've told nobody yet. But it won't do to go on like that, you know,—will it? You don't want it to go on always like that;—do you?"
"It's very jolly, I think."
"It ain't jolly for me. Of course, Felix, I like to be with you. That's jolly. But I have to mind them brats all the day, and to be doing the bedrooms. And that's not the worst of it."