“As if he couldn’t come home without bringing such a pack with him. Now come into my room, and I’ll talk to you, madam. Lloyd, take that waiter.”
She led the way into the housekeeper’s room, as her husband obediently bore off the flagon to his pantry; and then, shutting the door, she took her seat in a stiff, horse-hair-covered chair, looking as hard and prim as the presses and cupboards around.
“Now listen to me,” she said, harshly.
“Yes, aunt.”
“I’m not going to boast; but what have I done for you?”
“Paid for my schooling, aunt, and kept me three years.”
“Where would you have been if it hadn’t been for me?”
“Living with Aunt Price at Caerwmlych.”
“Starving with her, you mean, when she can hardly keep herself,” said Mrs Lloyd, sharply. “Now, look here, Polly, I’ve taken you from a life of misery to make you well off and happy; and I will be minded. Do you hear me?”
“Yes, aunt.”