“Oh! it’s yer mother, is it? So much the worse! Well, you c’n tell her from me that if she’s such a fool as to give up a good job she needn’t send her kids round here expectin’ me to support ’em! Now scoot, or I’ll have the truant officer after yer!”
The boy’s eyes burned angrily, and he was off even before he received his orders; but his ears were sharp, and he missed not a word. A sneering laugh followed him, and pressed the injustice still closer against his heart.
Thoughts of his mother’s brave fight for work, and of helpless little Doodles, uncomplaining in his loneliness and privations, sent hot tears to his eyes, and he darted blindly round the first corner, as if the very street that held his enemy were not to be trusted.
On and on he ran, unmindful of his way, until he became suddenly conscious of something unusual in the air, and, looking ahead, he saw a crowd of people moving slowly towards him. That it was an excited crowd was evident from the tumult of voices, mingled with shouts and yells, now plain above the noise of the street.
“Must be goin’ to have a meeting—or had one,” he told himself. “The union hall is down there on Blake Avenue.”
“Hello, Rob!” he called to a boy racing by on the opposite side. “What’s up?”
“Oh, somethin’ fierce! Better not go any nearer!” the lad warned. “Dad he said, ‘Git out o’ this on the double-quick, ’less yer want yer head smashed!’ I tell yer, ther’ ’s goin’ to be an awful row! Hope dad won’t git killed—my!”
“Aw, nobody’s goin’ to get killed! What you talking about!” Blue’s face showed scorn.
“Bet yer ther’ will, now! You hain’t been there, an’ I have!”
“I’m goin’!” He started.