Chapter XXI: _Epilogue_

Jenny went to bed at Irene's house in Camden Town and slept soundly till four o'clock in the afternoon. Then she got up, dressed herself, and prepared to face the storms of 17 Hagworth Street.

When she walked into the kitchen, the family was assembled in conclave round the tea-table. The addition of her brother to the usual party of three made her exclaim in surprise from the doorway:

"Oo--er, there's Alfie."

"So you've come back?" said Mrs. Raeburn.

"Yes, I went to Covent Garden Ball."

"I wonder you dare show your face."

"Why not?" asked Jenny, advancing towards the table.

"Oh, leave her alone, mother," said May. "She's tired."

"You dare tell me what I'm to do," Mrs. Raeburn threatened, turning sharply to her youngest daughter.

Jenny began to unbutton her gloves, loftily unconscious of her mother's gaze, which was now again directed upon her.

"How's yourself, young Alf?" she lightly inquired.

"Better than you, I hope," came the morose reply muffled by a teacup.

"Perhaps you'd like us to help you off with your things?" Mrs. Raeburn suggested sarcastically.

"Eh?" Jenny retorted, pointing a cold insolence of manner with arched contemptuous eyebrows.

"Don't you try and defy me, miss," Mrs. Raeburn warned her. "Because you know I won't have it."

"Who cares? I haven't done nothing."

Alfie guffawed ironically.

"I wonder you aren't afraid to make a noise like that with such long ears as you've got," said Jenny. "I should be."

Alfie muttered something about sauce under his breath, but ventured no audible retort.

"Well, what's the matter?" Jenny asked. "Get it over and done with."

"Where were you last night?"

"I told you. At Covent Garden Ball."

"And afterwards?"

"I went home with Ireen."

"And that's a ---- lie," shouted Alfie. "Because I saw you go off with a fellah."

"What of it, Mr. Nosy Parker? And don't use your navvy's language to me, because I don't like it."

"That's quite right," May agreed. "He ought to be ashamed of himself."

"You shut up, you silly kid," Alfie commanded.

Here Charlie entered the dispute.

"There's no call to swear, Alf. I can argue without swearing and so can you."

"It was you that learned him to swear. He's heard you often enough," Mrs. Raeburn pointed out. "But that's no reason why Alfie should."

Jenny, more insolently contemptuous than ever, interrupted the side-issue.

"When you've finished arguing which is the biggest lady and gentleman in this room, perhaps you'll let me finish what I was going to say."

"I'd hold my tongue if I was you," her brother advised. "You're as bad as Edie."

"Don't you talk to me. You!" said Jenny, stamping with rage. Then, with head thrown back and defiant underlip, she continued:

"That's quite right about my driving off with a gentleman." In the tail of the "g" was whipcord for Alfie's self-esteem.

"Gentleman," he sneered.

"_Which_ is more than _you_ could ever be, any old way."

"Or want to," Alfie growled. "Thanks, I'm quite content with what I am."

"You can't have many looking-glasses down at your workshop then. Look at Mr. Quite Content. How much do they pay you a week to be all the time spying after your sister?"

"Well, anyway, I caught you out, my girl."

"No, you didn't. I say I _did_ drive off with a gentleman, but there was a crowd of us. We went to have breakfast at Greenwich."

"Now that's a place I've often meant to go to and never did," said Charlie. "What's it like?"

"You keep quiet, you silly old man," his wife commanded. "As if she went near Greenwich. What a tale!"

"It isn't a tale," Jenny declared. "I did. Ask Maudie Chapman and Madge Wilson and Ireen. They was all there."

"Oh, I don't doubt they're just as quick with their tongues as what you are," said Mrs. Raeburn. "A nice lot you meet at that theater."

"Jest leave the theater alone," her daughter answered. "It's better than this dog's island where no one can't let you alone for a minute because they're so ignorant that they don't know nothing. I say I did go to Greenwich."

"I don't see why the girl shouldn't have gone to Greenwich," Charlie interposed. "I keep telling you I've often thought of going there myself."

"Jenny never speaks only what's the truth," May asserted.

"Yes, and a lot of good it does me," said Jenny indignantly. "I'd better by half tell a pack of lies, the same as other girls do."

"What she wants," said Alfie sententiously, "is a jolly good hiding. Look at her. There's a fine sister for a chap to have--nothing but paint and powder and hair-dye."

Jenny stood silent under this; but the upper lip was no longer visible. Her cheeks were pale, her eyes mere points of light. May was the first to speak in defense of the silent one.

"Brothers!" she scoffed. "Some girls would be a sight better without brothers. Hateful things!"

Jenny's feelings had been so overwrought by the fatigue of the dance followed by this domestic scene that May's gallant sally should have turned contempt to tears. But Alfie had enraged her too profoundly for weeping, and though tear-drops stood in her eyes, they were hard as diamonds.

"You oughtn't to talk to her like that, my boy," Charlie protested. "You're talking like a clergyman I once did some work for. He said, 'I'm not satisfied with this here box, Mr. Raeburn'--well, he said more than that--and I said, 'I'm not satisfied with your tone of voice,' and----"

"For goodness' sake, Charlie, keep your tongue quiet," his wife begged. "Look here, Jenny," she went on, "I won't have these hours kept, and that's all about it. Wherever you were last night, you weren't at home where you ought to be, and where you shall be as long as you live with me. Now that's all about it, and don't give me any back answers, because I know what's right and I'm your mother."

"I think you're a bit hard on the girl, Florrie, I do really," said the father. "She takes after her dad. I was always one for seeing a bit of life. What I says is, 'Let the young enjoy themselves.'"

"What you say is neither here nor there," replied Mrs. Raeburn. "You never did have any sense, you haven't got any sense now, and you never will have any sense."

"When you've done nagging at one another, all of _you_, I'm off," said Jenny deliberately.

"Off?" Mrs. Raeburn echoed.

"I'm going to live at Ireen Dale's for the future. This!" She looked round the kitchen. "Pooh!"

"You're not going to leave home?" Mrs. Raeburn asked.

"Aren't I? Who says so? I'm going now. You!" she said bitterly to her brother. "You've done a lot, Mr. Interfering Idiot. It's time you looked about for some girl to marry you, so as you can poke your nose into her business. Good-bye, all. I'll come over to tea soon, that is if you aren't all ashamed to have tea with me."

As she turned abruptly to go, Alfie asked his mother why she didn't lock her in a bedroom.

"It wouldn't be any good," said the latter.

"No, it wouldn't," Jenny vowed. "I'd kill myself sooner than sleep here another night."

"You're a dreadful worry to me," said Mrs. Raeburn slowly and earnestly.

"Send on my things to 43 Stacpole Terrace, Camden Town," replied the daughter. "You needn't think you'll get me back by keeping them, because you won't."

"You'll come and see us?" asked Mrs. Raeburn, who seemed now to accept defeat meekly.

"Yes, as long as you keep Mr. Nosy Parker Puppy dog outside. Brother! Why if you only knew, he wears that jam-pot round his neck to hide where his head's come off."

Presently the front door slammed.