"And aren't I to give no opinion on the subject of my own house?" asked their father indignantly.
"You?" cried Jenny; "why should you? You don't do nothing but drink everything away. Why should we slave ourselves to the death keeping you?"
"There's daughters!" Charlie apostrophized. "Yes, daughters is all very nice when they're small, but when they grow up, they're worse than wives. It comes of being women, I suppose." And Charlie, as if sympathizing with his earliest ancestor, sighed for Eden. "Look here, I don't want to take my hook from this house."
"All right, stay on, then, stupid," May advised; "only Jenny and I are going to clear off."
"Stay on by yourself," Jenny continued in support of her sister, "and a fine house it'll be in a year's time. No one able to get in for empty bottles and people all around thinking you've opened a shooting-gallery, I should say."
"Now don't go on," said Charlie, "because I want to have a lay down, so you can just settle as you like."
It was Sunday afternoon and no problems of future arrangements were serious enough to interrupt a lifelong habit.
"It's no good talking to him," said Jenny scornfully; "what we've got to do is give notice sharp. I hate this house now," she added, savagely appraising the walls.
So it was settled that after so many years the Raeburns should leave Hagworth Street. Charlie made no more attempts to contest the decision, and acquiesced almost cheerfully when he suddenly reflected that public-houses were always handy wherever anyone went. "Though, for all that," he added, "I shall miss the old 'Arms.'"
"Fancy," said Jenny, "who'd have thought it?"
On the following Sunday afternoon Mr. Corin, the remaining lodger, came down to interview his hostesses.
"I hear you're leaving then, Miss Raeburn," he said. "How's that?"
"It's too hard work for my sister," Jenny answered very politely. "And besides, she don't care for it, and nor don't I."
"Well, I'm going home along myself in November month, I believe, or I should have been sorry to leave you. What I come down to ask about was whether you'd let a bedroom to a friend of mine who's coming up from Cornwall on some law business in connection with some evidence over a right of way or something. A proper old mix up, I believe it is. But I don't suppose they'll keep him more than a week, and he could use my sitting-room."