"Never in all my life have I been so insulted," she cried. "The idea of inviting a person to pay you a visit and then telling her to go home. Well, I'm not going to do it. I'll stay here whether you want me or not."
"But," said the Duke of Dishwater, "you don't understand. Your husband is hunting for you and if he finds you here he'll pull my castle up by the roots."
"What do I care about your old castle," snapped Mrs. Blunderbuss. "And anyway, he couldn't because he's deader than a doornail; so there."
"Oh, no, he isn't," put in Jack. "You may think he is, but he isn't. That fall down the beanstalk only stunned him."
And then he told the giant's wife how he had dug Blunderbuss out and how the giant had brought him back because he thought that Jack was the boy who had run off with his property. "And," went on the boy, "he won't believe I am the wrong Jack until you tell him so. And of course you can see I am the wrong Jack, can't you?"
"Maybe I can, and maybe I can't," said Mrs. Blunderbuss, crossly. "Anyway it's your fault he has come back and that's enough for me to worry about without worrying to remember whether you're the wrong Jack or the right one, I reckon."
And having made that announcement she marched upstairs to her room with her nose in the air.
"My gracious," gasped Jack, "if that isn't the meanest thing I ever heard of."
"Well," said the Duke, "you needn't scowl at me. 'Taint my fault!"
Then, taking out his snuff box, the Duke of Dishwater helped himself to a generous pinch and marched upstairs with his nose in the air.