“And, to add to her offence,” remarked Mrs. Dainty, “she has assumed an upstart authority which has kept the house in hot water ever since she came into it. The children, and particularly Agnes, will not submit to her rules and exactions.”
“Why don’t you pack her off? I’d do it in less than no time,” said the refined acquaintance.
“I’ve about made up my mind to do it, and in spite of all opposition.”
“Opposition! Who has any right to oppose?”
“That fussy old uncle of mine is always meddling in our affairs,—Uncle John.”
“Why do you keep him about the house?”
“He’s my mother’s brother,” replied Mrs. Dainty. She could have given a better reason; but it would have been at the expense of an exposure of selfishness she did not care to make.
“If he were my mother’s great-grandfather, he couldn’t find harbor in my house if he interfered in what didn’t concern him,” said the lady.
Mrs. Dainty sighed. Uncle John was a great trouble to her, for he would say what he thought and do what he pleased. But then Uncle John owned the house they lived in, which they occupied rent free, or in compensation for board. And, moreover, Uncle John was worth two or three dollars where her not over-thrifty husband was worth one. No, no. It wouldn’t just answer to turn Uncle John out of the house; for that would be a losing business.
“If I could only find the right stamp of a governess,” said Mrs. Dainty, sighing again.