Here Mrs Halloran, whose emotions had been mastering her for some moments, broke down in a violent fit of sobbing; and this so affected her offspring that he emitted a noise like the hoot of a dog. As he started it without warning, so abruptly he ended it, and looked around with an impassive face.
It was uncanny. It shook the mayor's nerve. 'My dear Mrs Halloran, if you will let me have a word or two with your son—'
'Oh, I know!' she wailed. 'That's how you put it. But you give me over the money, sir, and let me go quick, before I weaken on it. You never had a child of your own, Mr Pinsent—and more's the pity for the child—but with one of your own you'd know what it feels like!'
Mr Pinsent felt in his trouser-pocket, drew forth two half-crowns, and pressed them into Mrs Halloran's dirty palm. With a sob and a blessing she escaped. He heard her run sobbing down the passage to the front door. Then he turned upon Mike.
The boy had sidled round with his back against the wall, and stood there with his left elbow up and his fists half clenched. For the space of half a minute the mayor eyed him, and he eyed the mayor.
'Sit down, Mike,' said the mayor gently.
'Goo! What d'ye take me for?' said Mike, lifting his hands a little.
'Sit down, I tell you.'
'Huh—yes, an' let you cop me over the head? You just try it—that's all; you just come an' try it?'
'I—er—have no intention of trying it,' said Mr Pinsent. 'It certainly would not become me to administer—to inflict—corporal punishment on a youth of your—er—inches. What grieves me—what pains me more than I can say, is to find a boy of your—er-size and er—development—by which I mean mental development, sense of responsibility—er—mixed up in this disgraceful affair. I had supposed it to be a prank, merely—a piece of childish mischief—and that the perpetrators were quite small boys.' (Here—not a doubt of it—Mr Pinsent was telling the truth.)