I stood hesitating. Sally was crying her head off, and the Butcher was cramming the candy into his ugly mouth as fast as he could, when along came my father.
"What's the trouble?" he asked.
I told him, suggesting he make the Butcher return the candy.
"That's your job," he replied.
"But he can lick me," I stammered, remembering former disastrous battles I had fought with the bully.
"That makes no difference," replied my father. "It's just as well for you to learn now, that whenever you see a girl or a woman insulted, it's the business of every decent man or boy to come to her rescue. I give you your choice of fighting that boy now, or taking a licking from me when you come home."