"You dare tell me what I'm to do," Mrs. Raeburn threatened, turning sharply to her youngest daughter.
Jenny began to unbutton her gloves, loftily unconscious of her mother's gaze, which was now again directed upon her.
"How's yourself, young Alf?" she lightly inquired.
"Better than you, I hope," came the morose reply muffled by a teacup.
"Perhaps you'd like us to help you off with your things?" Mrs. Raeburn suggested sarcastically.
"Eh?" Jenny retorted, pointing a cold insolence of manner with arched contemptuous eyebrows.
"Don't you try and defy me, miss," Mrs. Raeburn warned her. "Because you know I won't have it."
"Who cares? I haven't done nothing."
Alfie guffawed ironically.
"I wonder you aren't afraid to make a noise like that with such long ears as you've got," said Jenny. "I should be."