Jack.

RAMSDEN. [irritably] Yes, yes, Annie: this is all very well, and, as I
said, quite natural and becoming. But you must make a choice one way or
the other. We are as much in a dilemma as you.

ANN. I feel that I am too young, too inexperienced, to decide. My
father's wishes are sacred to me.

MRS WHITEFIELD. If you two men won't carry them out I must say it is
rather hard that you should put the responsibility on Ann. It seems to
me that people are always putting things on other people in this world.

RAMSDEN. I am sorry you take it that way.

ANN. [touchingly] Do you refuse to accept me as your ward, Granny?

RAMSDEN. No: I never said that. I greatly object to act with Mr Tanner:
that's all.

MRS. WHITEFIELD. Why? What's the matter with poor Jack?

TANNER. My views are too advanced for him.

RAMSDEN. [indignantly] They are not. I deny it.

ANN. Of course not. What nonsense! Nobody is more advanced than Granny.
I am sure it is Jack himself who has made all the difficulty. Come,
Jack! Be kind to me in my sorrow. You don't refuse to accept me as your
ward, do you?

TANNER. [gloomily] No. I let myself in for it; so I suppose I must face
it. [He turns away to the bookcase, and stands there, moodily studying
the titles of the volumes].

ANN. [rising and expanding with subdued but gushing delight] Then we are
all agreed; and my dear father's will is to be carried out. You don't
know what a joy that is to me and to my mother! [She goes to Ramsden and
presses both his hands, saying] And I shall have my dear Granny to help
and advise me. [She casts a glance at Tanner over her shoulder]. And
Jack the Giant Killer. [She goes past her mother to Octavius]. And
Jack's inseparable friend Ricky-ticky-tavy [he blushes and looks
inexpressibly foolish].

MRS WHITEFIELD. [rising and shaking her widow's weeds straight] Now that
you are Ann's guardian, Mr Ramsden, I wish you would speak to her about
her habit of giving people nicknames. They can't be expected to like it.
[She moves towards the door].

ANN. How can you say such a thing, Mamma! [Glowing with affectionate
remorse] Oh, I wonder can you be right! Have I been inconsiderate? [She
turns to Octavius, who is sitting astride his chair with his elbows on
the back of it. Putting her hand on his forehead the turns his face up
suddenly]. Do you want to be treated like a grown up man? Must I call
you Mr Robinson in future?

OCTAVIUS. [earnestly] Oh please call me Ric