“I don’t need to see it, to know all about it.”
John looked skeptical.
“People always thinks things isn’t so until he sees them himself,” he observed sadly.
“That is a frightfully ungrammatical sentence,” she commented.
“It doesn’t take grammar to see them,” he ventured with some truth.
“Bah!” she snorted.
Then of a sudden she came to herself.
“I can tell you what you’re going to do,” she stormed, stepping towards him. “You’re going back to your work and think no more about these fool things. You leave them to me. I’ll attend to them. You understand? Go back to your work and do no more talking about leaving or I’ll discharge you quicker than you can say Jack Robinson. You needn’t worry about any more Things or Its. I’ll attend to those, too.”
John had been slowly pressed back. His spirit had quite gone at the first sentence. He was not a timid man, but it took more than human courage to stand before Aunt Philomela in such a mood. He would thank his stars if he could only get safely into the buttery again. She paused a moment, and John threw himself against the swinging door and disappeared. Aunt Philomela turned around.
It was this auspicious moment that Barnes chose for entering. Aunt Philomela swung upon him before he had time even to say good-morning.