“I’ve finished with the lot of you, Larry,” Deborah said gently. “I’m going to be a Lyndesay all by myself for the rest of my existence, so you can just keep on the other side of the road when you see me coming, for your poor relation doesn’t intend to know you. It’s no use arguing. I mean what I say.”
Larrupper upset both cream-jugs.
“That’s a footlin’ way of talkin’,” he said. “Haven’t I adored you always, an’ been ready to lift the roof off the world for you, as you don’t need tellin’? An’ just because things have gone to smoke through that bunglin’ bounder of a Slinker——”
“Larrupper!” Verity’s little voice was almost shrill.
“Just because Slinker——” (Larry, when interfered with, always erupted louder than ever)—“just because Slinker behaved like a—a—a—low-down, crawlin’ scallywag——”
“Larrupper!”
“You think the rest of us are not good enough to be seen dead with. But we’re a fairly decent lot, for all that; Laker is, anyhow, an’ Larrupper’s quite a charmin’ imitation; an’ if you’re goin’ to give us all the go-by on Slinker’s account, you’re makin’ us responsible for somethin’ we didn’t know of any more than you; an’ if that isn’t glarin’ injustice, I’d like to hear of a better sample!”
“I’ve been hurt,” said Deb, staring at the table, “so naturally I’m looking round for somebody to get back on. And you happen to be the nearest, that’s all.”
“And what about me?” asked Verity. Deb, looking up, caught a look of real pain on the small face. “If it hadn’t been for that three pounds of salmon, you’d have lost the two people who love you best in the world, and serve you jolly well right!”
“Where is the salmon?” Deb put in suddenly, her conscience smiting her, and Verity blinked away her tears and laughed.