“I’m sure it’s very kind of you, Uncle Alfred, but the fact is, I’m not keen on Ces going to any of their precious schools. What I’m wondering is if him and me couldn’t get off somewhere on our own, and if the Aviolets get their monkey up and cut off my allowance, what I can do to earn enough money for us both.”
“Nothing,” said Uncle Alfred crisply. “Nothing. Untrained young women with no especial aptitude can only earn their living in one profession, and that is not one which I could pollute your ears by mentioning.”
“Goodness, Uncle A., you do pass the most far-fetched remarks,” his niece exclaimed, stifling a laugh.
“Let me hear no more nonsense as to your husband’s relations. God is not mocked, and it would be neither more nor less than deliberate mockery to reject the provision that He has obviously made for you and your child. You must bow to His decrees, and let me tell you that the task, in your case, should be a particularly easy one.”
There was a tone of finality about Uncle Alfred’s delivery of his exordium that Rose knew of old.
His verdict, once given, would never be recalled.
“However, thank goodness, I know Uncle A.,” his niece reflected. “His bark’s worse than his bite, and he’d keep us here, worst come to the worst, if I could scrape up money for our board. Only what can I do with Cecil?”
When she had been away for nearly a fortnight, a letter came from Squires. The sight of the thick blue-grey notepaper, with the stamped address on the corner, brought the atmosphere of the place for an instant into the crowded, untidy bedroom, full of cheap and ugly furniture, where Rose stood and read it.
My dear Rose,
I had hoped to hear from you before this. Could you let me know what day you and Cecil are returning, as I must write to Miss Wade?