“Elsie, I’ve told you before, I won’t have you going with boys.”
“I don’t, mother.”
“Yes, you do. And don’t contradict. Surely to goodness you’re aware by this time that it’s the heighth of bad manners to contradict. I’ve taken trouble enough to try and make a lady of you, I’m sure, and now all you can do is to contradict your mother, and spend your time walking the streets with boys.”
“Mother, I never.”
“Now don’t tell lies about it, Elsie. Mother knows perfectly well when you’re telling a lie, and you don’t take her in by crocodile tears either, my lady. Don’t let me have to speak to you again about the same thing, that’s all.”
Elsie began to cry, automatically and without conviction. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yes, you do, miss. I mean Johnnie Osborne, and Johnnie Osborne’s brother, and Stanley Begg and the rest of them. Now, no more of it, Elsie. Go and give the gurl a hand with washing up the tea-things, and hurry up.”
Elsie went away, glad that it was so soon over. Sometimes mother went on for ages. Thank the Lord she was busy to-day, with two new paying guests coming in. As she went past the drawing-room door Elsie looked in.
“Hallo, little girl!”
“Hallo, Mr. Roberts! Can’t stay, I’ve to go and help the girl wash up or something.”