"My dear," said I, "Mrs. Jupp—I admit it's deplorable taste to change a name of such gentility as Considine for that of Jupp, but it isn't unscrupulous—Mrs. Jupp did not happen to be charged with a mission from on High to dry nurse Liosha for the rest of her life."
"That's where you're wrong," Barbara retorted. "She was. She was the one person in the world who could look after Liosha. See what she's done for her. It was her duty to stick to Liosha. As for those two old faggots marrying, they ought to be ashamed of themselves."
Whether they were ashamed of themselves or not didn't matter. Liosha remained alone in the boarding-house. Not all Barbara's indignation could turn Mrs. Jupp into the admirable Mrs. Considine and bring her back to Queen's Gate. What was to be done? We consulted Jaffery, who as Liosha's trustee ought to have consulted us. Jaffery pulled a long face and smiled ruefully. For the first time he realised—in spite of tragic happenings—the comedy aspect of his position as the legal guardian of two young, well-to-do and attractive widows. He was the last man in the world to whom one would have expected such a fate to befall. He too swore lustily at the defaulting duenna.
"I thought it was all fixed up nicely forever," he growled.
"Everything is transitory in this life, my dear fellow," said I. "Everything except a trusteeship. That goes on forever."
"That's the devil of it," he growled.
"You must get used to it," said I. "You'll have lots more to look after before you've done with this existence!"
His look hardened and seemed to say: "If you go and die and saddle me with Barbara, I'll punch your head."
He turned his back on me and, jerking a thumb, addressed Barbara.
"Why do you take him out without a muzzle? Now you've got sense. What shall I do?"