"Haven't we enough to live on decently, and something to spare for others?"
"We?" His voice took a sharper inflection. "How much have you laid by, missie?"
The sharpness and veiled impatience of her tone matched his as she answered:
"You know what I mean."
"I don't. What I've made is mine—my very own. I can do what I like with it."
"Oh, father!"
"Oh, father!" He mimicked her cleverly. "Do you have the sauce to sit there and tell me, your father, that what I've made isn't mine?"
Posy quoted Mrs. Honeybun with overwhelming effect.
"You are a trustee for what you hold, accountable for every penny."
"Accountable—to you?"