I had done something quite hopeless and unforgivable.
She didn't know how she could bring herself to report the affair--think of calling it an affair, Marty!--to my poor mother.

Mother, who'd never say a word to me, whatever I did! She might have out-of-date views, she said, of how young girls should behave, but they were the right views, and so long as I was under her roof and in her care, she would see that I conformed to them.

She went on making a mountain out of our little molehill, till even Grandfather broke in with a word; and then she snapped at him, got into her second wind and went off again.

I didn't listen half the time.

I just stood and watched her as you'd watch one of those weird old women in one of Dickens' books come to life.