Aunt Ada turned white. “D’you hear that, Edie?” she gasped.
“Yes, I do,” said Mrs. Palmer vigorously, “and I’m not going to put up with it, not for a single instant. Elsie Palmer, you beg your auntie’s pardon directly minute.”
“I won’t.”
The vast figure of Mrs. Palmer in her Sunday black frock upreared itself and stood, weighty and menacing, over her child. She had never hit either of her daughters since childhood, but neither of them had ever openly defied her.
“Do as I say.”
“N-no.”
Elsie’s voice quavered, and she burst into tears. Mrs. Palmer let out a sigh of relief. She knew that she had won.
“Do—as—I—say.”
“I’m sure I’m very sorry, Aunt Ada, if I said what I didn’t ought.”
“It isn’t what you said, dear,” said Aunt Ada untruthfully. “It was the way you said it.”