"What!" growled Mr. Hardhand, aghast at this unwonted boldness.

"I heard what you said before I came in; and no decent man would go to
the house of a poor woman to insult her."

"Humph! Mighty fine," snarled the little old man, his gray eyes
twinkling with malice.

"Don't Bobby; don't be saucy to the gentleman," interposed his mother.

"Saucy, marm? You ought to horsewhip him for it. If you don't, I
will."

"No, you won't!" replied Bobby, shaking his head significantly. "I can
take care of myself."

"Did any one ever hear such impudence!" gasped Mr. Hardhand.

"Don't, Bobby, don't," pleaded the anxious mother.

"I should like to know what right you have to come here and abuse my
mother," continued Bobby, who could not restrain his anger.

"Your mother owes me money, and she don't pay it, you young scoundrel!"
answered Mr. Hardhand, foaming with rage.

"That is no reason why you should insult her. You can call _me_ what
you please, but you shall not insult my mother while I'm round."

"Your mother is a miserable woman, and--"