“Where?”
“I’ll sell something.”
“What?”
“I’ll save up.”
“How?”
“And I’ll borrow some.”
“You’d better shut up now or I’ll knock your head off,” cried his mother. “Fidding and fadding about—you’re daft!”
“She shan’t go to any workhouse!”
“Fool!” repeated his mother, revealing her disgust at his hopeless imbecility.
“I tell you she shall not go there,” shouted the boy, stung into angry resentment by her contempt.