to stay there. Ef you want the boys, you must get round Mother Bunch
first."

Granger's face grew purple. For some reason, this piece of information
was most disconcerting to him.

"You're a wicked, ungrateful gel," he said. "You don't honor your
parents--you don't respect 'em as has been put over you by Providence.
You're a bad 'un, you are, Bet Granger; and you'll come to no good
end. Them boys are mine, not yourn; and, for that matter, you are mine
too--you ain't of age, you know."

"No, I'm not of age," said Bet, in a quiet voice. "But the boys are
with Mother Bunch, and they'll stay there. Ef you really tries to get
'em away I ha' quite made up my mind what to do."

"And what's that, if I may be so bold as to ask?" inquired Granger,
in a taunting voice.

"Father, there's people here--yes, here, in this great bad Liverpool--
who help children when they are treated cruel. If you try to get at
the boys I'll take 'em to the Refuge, and I can tell the people there
one or two things about you what won't sound too nice."

This last frank statement on Bet's part was even more disagreeable to
Granger than her first piece of news. He saw that his daughter was
stronger and had a better case than he could possibly have given her
credit for. This discovery did not, strange to say, increase his anger.
His manner became quiet, and almost deferential.