"No!"
"Well, I am going to tell you anyhow, because I can't keep it to myself any longer! Uncle John is dead!"
"Uncle John! Dead?"
"Yes, and I'm happy!"
"What do you mean, you're happy!"
"Well, I am happy!—not because Uncle John is dead, but because his little girl, Paula, who is just my age, is coming to live with us, so, of course, why shouldn't I be happy?"
"Well, you can just forget your 'happiness,' because Paula is not going to live with us. I can tell you that right now!"
"And why not? Father said she was coming! You can ask Teresa, or Rosa, or
Louis!"
"I am not going to ask anyone, but I tell you that Paula is not coming here! No! and indeed, NO! I've got enough to put up with, with Louis and you! It seems as if you tear my head apart, for you quarrel from morning till night; and when you play it seems as if the house is coming down; and now suppose another bad-mannered little girl should come among us! But I tell you it never shall happen!"
"You're not the one who orders things here!"