“Come on,” says I. “Dad was askin’ after you this mornin’.”
“Was he?” says Catty, and his eyes got bright as anything. “Was he really?... I’ll come.”
When we got there Banty Gage, who lives next door, and Skoodles Gordon were sitting on top of the shed, waiting for me to turn up. I had told them about Catty Atkins, and they were interested to see him and to watch him shoot with that beanie of his. When Catty saw them he came close to turning around and going off, but I hung onto him, and Skoodles and Banty came down off of the shed.
“This is Catty Atkins that I told you about,” says I, and then I told him what their names were. He didn’t say much and acted sort of offish and quiet, but that didn’t last. In a while we were shooting away and having a bully time. Dad came out on the porch a minute and asked how we were getting along, and spoke special to Catty, and then sat down to read his paper.
About ten minutes after that Banty Gage’s mother came out and stood looking at us. Then she called to Banty and he went over to the fence. We could hear what she said.
“Who is that boy?” she asked, sort of cold and severe.
“Catty Atkins,” says Banty.
“Who is he? Where did you get acquainted with him?”
“Wee-wee brought him home with him.”
“Is he that boy you were talking about the other evening? The one whose father is a tramp and who is hanging around that old shanty down by the waterworks?”