just as though I'd been Aunt Amy or Mother. And she says that if we
go on being naughty she'll go away, and no one else will have her,
because they'll hear about our having been naughty. And I told her
about the workhouse and the porridge and the yellow soap that the
Jampot told us of, and it would be awful if she went there because
of us, wouldn't it?"

"Awful," said Mary.

But Helen said: "She wouldn't go there. She'd take a little house,
like Miss Dobell, and have tea-parties on Thursdays--somewhere near
the Cathedral."

"No, she wouldn't!" said Jeremy excitedly. "How could she take a
little house if she hadn't any money? She told me she hadn't, and no
friends, nor nobody, and she cried like anything--" He paused for
breath, then concluded: "So we've got to be good now, and learn
sums, and not make her jump. Really and truly, we must."

"I always thought you were very silly to make so much noise," said
Helen in a superior fashion. "You and Mary--babies!"

"We're not babies," shouted Jeremy.

"Yes, you are."

"No, we're not."

Miss Jones was no longer the subject of the conversation.