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The three children sat
pale on the sofa.
"Stop it, both of you," cried Mrs. Morel in a hard voice. "We've had
enough for ONE night. And YOU," she said, turning on to her husband,
"look at your children!"
Morel glanced at the sofa.
"Look at the children, you nasty little bitch!" he sneered. "Why, what
have I done to the children, I should like to know? But they're like
yourself; you've put 'em up to your own tricks and nasty ways--you've
learned 'em in it, you 'ave."
She refused to answer him. No one spoke. After a while he threw his
boots under the table and went to bed.
"Why didn't you let me have a go at him?" said William, when his father
was upstairs. "I could easily have beaten him."
"A nice thing--your own father," she replied.
"'FATHER!'" repeated William. "Call HIM MY father!"
"Well, he is--and so--"
"But why don't you let me settle him? I could do, easily."
"The idea!" she cried. "It hasn't come to THAT yet."
"No," he said, "it's come to worse. Look at yourself.


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