"Am I?"
"I think you are."
"It doesn't always do to show one's feelings."
"You're a regular icicle."
"Perhaps," whispered Mrs. Raeburn.
Jenny stole back to the kitchen greatly puzzled. Whether the florid Mr. Timpany kissed Mrs. Raeburn before he went out to look for the hansom cab that was to jingle him out of her life, I do not know; but she waved to him once as she saw him look round under a lamp post, for Jenny had crept back and was standing beside her when she did so.
"You come on in, you naughty girl," said Mrs. Raeburn, drowning love in a copper bubbling with clothes.
"Would you like that man better than father?" Jenny inquired presently, pausing in the erection of a tower of bricks for the benefit of May, who watched with somber eyes the quivering feat of architecture.
"What do you mean?" said Mrs. Raeburn sharply.
"Would you like father to go away and never, never come back here along of us ever again and always have that man?"