"What did she want?"
"She invited me to tea at Black Anchor Farm on Sunday. She also promised to chaperon me."
"The infamous urchin!" groaned George.
"I should have gone," she said steadily.
"Then you must be altogether—absolutely wrong somewhere. Go there to tea! Sit opposite that wicked old man, beside that abandoned youth, and positively touching that shameless child who hasn't got a surname! After all that has passed between us, after all your promises to me, after all that I have done for you—all my kindness and self-sacrifice—you would drink tea out of their teapot, and let yourself be talked about as one of the young women of Black Anchor!"
"My suspicions are not quite gone. But directly I saw little Miss Christina I knew the horrible things we have heard are all lies. She's a young lady. She goes to school at Cheltenham."
"That makes it worse. You know old Brock—he's an ordinary labourer. While Sidney is a common young fellow who can't even speak English. They are not fit to lick the polish off your shoes."
"But then I don't want the polish licked off my shoes; it's enough trouble putting it on. I do not understand the Brocks, and I can't imagine why Miss Teenie wouldn't tell me her whole name. If I could have gone to Black Anchor on Sunday, I might have found out something."
"These Dollies and Teenies, and painted females, are no relations of such common chaps. And I won't have you speaking to any of them."
"Really!" she murmured with great deliberation.