“Yes, ’m.”
“Then you come right straight home. If Mrs. Moore wants her boy to play with that sort of people, all right, but my boy can’t. No telling what he’ll lead you into.” She stopped and looked hard at Catty, who was standing very still, with his lips set and his eyes kind of like they was made out of pieces of polished steel. “He’s a tramp, and there’s no telling what else. Such people aren’t fit to be let at large. I don’t see what the town is thinking of not to shut them up or make them go away. You come right home, and never let me see you with that boy again. Now march.”
Catty looked at Mrs. Gage and looked at me and looked at Dad, and then he says to himself, “I sort of knew folks thought that about us, but I didn’t ever hear one of ’em say it before.” And he turned around and started for the back gate.
“Where you goin’?” says I, and I was good and mad.
He didn’t answer, but kept right on. Then Dad spoke from the porch.
“Catty,” says he, and his voice had something in it that sounded good.
Catty stopped and looked at him, very sober, with his lips shut tight.
“Wait just a moment, Catty,” says Dad, and then he turned to Mrs. Gage.
“Mrs. Gage,” says Dad, “Catty is my guest, and as my guest he is entitled to the courtesy of those who are my friends and neighbors. I know Catty, and I am very glad to have him come to my home and play with my son. I am going to give myself the pleasure of calling on Catty’s father. I am sure you spoke hastily and had no wish to hurt this boy as you have hurt him.”
“Mr. Moore,” said Mrs. Gage, as sharp as a needle, “you can have any tramp or criminal or anybody you want to play with your family, but you can’t force them on mine.... You heard me tell you to come home, Thomas.” Banty’s right name was Thomas.