“Well,” resumed the barber, “that ain't sayin' what you'd do if a young lady ever walked up and called you a little gentleman. I want to hear what you'd do to her. I guess I know, though—come to think of it.”
“What?” demanded Penrod.
“You'd sick that pore ole dog of yours on her cat, if she had one, I expect,” guessed the barber derisively.
“No, I would not!”
“Well, what WOULD you do?”
“I'd do enough. Don't worry about that!”
“Well, suppose it was a boy, then: what'd you do if a boy come up to you and says, 'Hello, little gentleman'?”
“He'd be lucky,” said Penrod, with a sinister frown, “if he got home alive.”
“Suppose it was a boy twice your size?”
“Just let him try,” said Penrod ominously. “You just let him try. He'd never see daylight again; that's all!”