“I’m goin’ to fix it up a little,” said Mr. Jones, rather nonplussed.
“I think, Mr. Jones, we won’t move,” said Robert.
“Won’t move?” ejaculated the landlord, getting red in the face. “You’ve got to move.”
“Who says so?”
“I say so, you young whelp!”
“No hard names, if you please, Mr. Jones. The fact is, my aunt doesn’t fancy going to the poorhouse. To be sure, if she could have your society there it might make a difference.”
“You’ll repent this impudence, Bob Coverdale!”
“How am I impudent?”
“To talk of my being in the poorhouse!”
“You spoke of Aunt Jane going to the poorhouse.”