"Your school isn't much anyway, I expect, and I'm going to school in September, and I'll wear just the same things as you do and--" He wanted to comment upon the plain features of Ernest's sisters, but his gentlemanly courtesy restrained him.

He paused for breath, and Ernest seized his advantage.
"You have to have an old aunt to look after you anyway--an ugly old aunt.

I wouldn't have an old aunt always hanging over me--'Now, Jeremy dear--' 'Blow your nose, Jeremy dear--' 'Wipe your feet, Jeremy dear.' Look at the things she wears and the way she walks.

If I did have to have an aunt always I'd have a decent one, not an old clothes bag." What happened to Jeremy at the moment?
Did he recollect that only a few hours before he had been hating Aunt Amy with a fine frenzy of hatred?
For nearly a week he had been chafing under her restraint, combating her commands, defying her orders.

He had been seeing her as everything that the Dean's Ernest had but now been calling her.