"Say that again, and though you are an old man, I'll hit you for it.
I'm big enough to protect my mother, and I'll do it."

Bobby doubled up his fists and edged up to Mr. Hardhand, fully
determined to execute his threat if he repeated the offensive
expression, or any other of a similar import. He was roused to the
highest pitch of anger, and felt as though he had just as lief die as
live in defence of his mother's good name.

I am not sure that I could excuse Bobby's violence under any other
circumstances. He loved his mother--as the novelists would say, he
idolized her; and Mr. Hardhand had certainly applied some very
offensive epithets to her--epithets which no good son could calmly bear
applied to a mother. Besides, Bobby, though his heart was a large one,
and was in the right place, had never been educated into those nice
distinctions of moral right and wrong which control the judgment of
wise and learned men. He had an idea that violence, resistance with
blows, was allowable in certain extreme cases; and he could conceive of
no greater provocation than an insult to his mother.

"Be calm, Bobby; you are in a passion," said Mrs. Bright.

"I am surprised, marm," began Mr. Hardhand, who prudently refrained
from repeating the offensive language--and I have no doubt he was
surprised; for he looked both astonished and alarmed. "This boy has a
most ungovernable temper."

"Don't you worry about my temper, Mr. Hardhand; I'll take care of
myself. All I want of you is not to insult my mother. You may say