And Aunt Hannah in her enraged scorn even undertook a grotesque and
mincing imitation of the peacocking aforesaid. 'Let goo!' muttered
Louie between her shut teeth, and with a wild strength she at last
flung off her aunt and sprang for the door. But Hannah was too
quick for her and put her back against it. 'No--yo'll not goo till
your ooncle there's gien yo a word. He _shan't_ say I'm hard
on yo for nothink, yo good-for-nowt little powsement--he shall see
yo as yo are!'

And with the bitterness of a smouldering grievance, expressed in
every feature, Hannah looked peremptorily at her husband. He, poor
man, was much perplexed. The hour of devotion was past, and outside
it he was not accustomed to be placed in important situations.

'Louie--didn't yo know yo wor a bad gell to stay up and burn t'
candles, an fret your aunt?' he said with a feeble solemnity, his
look fixed on the huddled white figure against the mahogany press.

Louie stood with eyes resolutely cast down, and a forced smile,
tremulous, but insolent to a degree, slowly lifting up the corners
of her mouth as Uncle Reuben addressed her. The tears were still
running off her face, but she meant her smile to convey the
indomitable scorn for her tormentors which not even Aunt Hannah
could shake out of her.

Hannah Grieve was exasperated by the child's expression.

'Yo little sloot!' she said, seizing her by the arm again, and
losing her temper for good and all, 'yo've got your mither's bad