Famous painting

in a blubbering tone commence the tale of how 'that nasty
Jane Eyre' had flown at him like a mad cat: he was stopped rather
harshly-
'Don't talk to me about her, John: I told you not to go near her;
she is not worthy of notice; I do not choose that either you or your
sisters should associate with her.'
Here, leaning over the banister, I cried out suddenly, and
without at all deliberating on my words-
'They are not fit to associate with me.'

Mrs. Reed was rather a stout woman; but, on hearing this strange
and audacious declaration, she ran nimbly up the stair, swept me
like a whirlwind into the nursery, and crushing me down on the edge of
my crib, dared me in an emphatic voice to rise from that place, or