“Charley, you can explain to Dumps.”
Charley was standing by the fire. He was a very solidly made boy, not nearly so handsome as Alex, who was tall and slight, with regular features and beautiful eyes. Charley was in some respects like me, only very much better-looking.
“Oh,” said Charley, “she began talking in a way we couldn’t stand about the Professor, so we just took her by the shoulders and brought her to the top of the stairs. She said she was going out, and wouldn’t be back until to-night—or perhaps never.”
“Oh, you haven’t turned her away?” I said; for although Hannah was very troublesome and most disagreeable, and was certainly the last person to conciliate the disturbed state of the household and bring peace out of disorder, I could not bear the idea of her not being there.
“She’ll come back, right enough. I tell you what it is, Dumps,” said Alex; “we’re—we’re a bit stunned. Of course, it’s rather awkward, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know that it is,” said Charley. “He could always do as he liked, couldn’t he? I mean he never thought much about us, did he?”
“Oh, don’t blame him now,” I said.
“I don’t want to—I only want you to understand. Father always did what he liked. Hannah was dreadful; she spoke as she ought not to speak. It is just as well she should go out and let the open air smooth away some of her grievances. I do not see that it matters to her; he is not her father.”
“No, it doesn’t really matter to her; and yet it does matter in another sense,” I said.
Charley turned round.