“Mother!” Ilam almost shouted, starting up. “But would he?” Mrs. Ilam persisted.
“No, he wouldn’t,” muttered Josephus, and his voice trembled.
Mrs. Ilam blew out the spirit-lamp under the kettle as though she was blowing out Carpentaria. “I’m off,” said Josephus nervously.
“Wait a moment, child. Ring the bell for me.” A servant entered.
“Bring me your master’s knitted waistcoat,” said Mrs. Ilam.
“But, mother, I shan’t want it.”
“Yes, you will, Jos. There’s no month more treacherous than May. You’ll put it on to please me.”
He obeyed, bent down to kiss his terrible parent, and departed.
“Think it over,” she called out after him.
Ilam stopped.