"But I haven't. I've not had any trifle yet."
She thought: "They don't want me to hear them; but I've a right to sit
here and eat trifle. They know they can't turn me out. I haven't done
anything."
Aunt Lavvy went on. "I've only one thing to say, Emilius. You've asked me
to think of Victor and Charlotte, and you and Caroline and the boys and
Mary. Have you once--in thirty-three years--for a single minute--thought
of _me_?"
"Certainly I have. It's partly for your own sake I object to your
disgracing yourself. As if your sister Charlotte wasn't disgrace enough."
Aunt Lavvy drew herself up stiff and straight in her white shawl like a
martyr in her flame. "You might keep Charlotte out of it, I think."
"I might. Charlotte can't help herself. You can."
At this point Mamma burst into tears and left the room.
"Now," he said, "I hope you're satisfied."
Mary answered him.
"I think _you_ ought to be, Papa, if you've been bullying Aunt Lavvy for
thirty-three years. Don't you think it's about time you stopped?"
Emilius stared at his daughter. His face flushed slowly. "I think," he
said, "it's time you went to bed."
"It isn't my bed-time for another hour yet."
(A low murmur from Aunt Lavvy: "Don't, Mary, don't.")
She went on. "It was you who made Mamma cry, not Aunt Lavvy. It always
frightens her when you shout at people. You know Aunt Lavvy's a perfect
saint, besides being lots cleverer than anybody in this house, except
Mark. You get her by herself when she's tired out with Aunt Charlotte.
You insult her religion. You say the beastliest things you can think
of--"
Her father pushed back his chair; they rose and looked at each other.
"You wouldn't dare to do it if Mark was here!"
He strode to the door and opened it. His arm made a crescent gesture that
cleared space of her.
"Go! Go upstairs. Go to bed!"
"I don't care where I go now I've said it."
Upstairs in her bed she still heard Aunt Lavvy's breaking voice:
"For thirty-three years--for thirty-three years--"
The scene rose again and swam before her and fell to pieces.
Ideas--echoes--images. Religion--the truth of God. Her father's voice
booming over the table. Aunt Lavvy's voice, breaking--breaking. A pile of
stripped chicken bones on her father's plate.