This new relation, Abner thought, was all very well. Still, just because they had patched up their old quarrel, they needn’t necessarily be always together. He wasn’t going to abandon his friend, Joe Hodgetts, and Tiger for the sake of feminine small talk. Nor did he mean to forsake Mrs Moseley, at whose house the dog still slept. Those early autumn evenings were great times for Tiger. Abner knew of a dozen fields in which he could be certain of putting up a hare.
It annoyed Alice to see him so eager to get away just when she wanted him most. She knew that he went in to see Mrs Moseley. She told herself that she had always hated the old woman, even before she had been forced on her by her husband. One evening when Abner was hurrying away after tea she called him back.
‘Where are you going, Abner?’
‘Down town.’
‘You’m going to Mrs Moseley’s.’
‘And why shouldn’t I go to Mrs Moseley’s? You can’t stop me!’
‘Stay with us to-night, Abner,’ she coaxed.
Abner only laughed at her. Then she flew into a passion, standing up white and trembling at the side of the table.
‘How can you go to Mrs Moseley’s?’ she cried. ‘Who’s Mrs Moseley, I should like to know? You’re all cracked on your Mrs Moseley, you and your father! That fat old woman in her nasty smelly house! And you didn’t ought to leave me when I want you. You didn’t ought to! I’m your mother . . ‘
‘Oh, you’m my mother, are you?’ Abner burst into a laugh. ‘That’s bloody funny, that is!’