"And so when I reproved 'ee for being wrong and gave 'ee a well deserved blow, I was right?"
No reply. Her brow darkened. Blow nearer again.
"Come now, quick about it: 'ee were wrong?"
"Yes, Aunt Jael."
"And I was right."
No reply. She half raised her stick—not fist this time—but noting Grandmother's eye, restrained herself with an effort. Both belligerents played still for neutral sympathy. She must be moderate, as Salvation said of her scholastic fees.
"Now, child, I'll give 'ee five minutes. If by that time 'ee haven't looked me in the face and repeated twice ''Ee were right, Aunt Jael, and I'm very sorry,' then I'll bang 'ee till 'ee won't be able to sit down. Now then."
She leaned against the table, eyeing the clock. Mrs. Cheese sat silent, but ready I could see for intervention. That was Grandmother's look too. Both were ready to ward off the soon-to-be-uplifted stick. Aunt Jael feared this, and was uneasy. She broke the silence after about two minutes.
"I warn 'ee. For your own good, mark. 'Tis no odds to me: I'd as lief thrash you. Don't 'ee know your Proverbs, child: 'Chasten thy son while there is hope, and let not thy rod spare for his crying.' I'll not spare for your crying. And 'ee'll be free from me for a spell, for 'ee'll dwell up in the attic for a few days all alone to give 'ee time to think over your sins. Now then. What d'ye say to that?"
"What do I say?" I shouted. "I say this: 'It is better to dwell in a corner of the housetop than with a brawling woman in a wide house!' Don't 'ee know your Proverbs, Aunt Jael?"