Benito jerked himself away from the maternal hand and said, with his mouth full of cake:
“I don’t want to go with you; I want to go with Uncle Gam. He lets me ride in the goat-cart and buy peanuts.”
“You’ll go with me,” said Mrs. Garcia with asperity, “or you’ll not go at all.”
“I don’t want to go with you,” said Benito, beginning to grow clamorous; “I don’t have fun when I go with you.”
“You’ll go with me, or stay home shut up in the cupboard all afternoon.”
“I won’t; no, I won’t.”
Benito was both tearful and enraged. His mother caught his hand and, holding it in a tense grip, bent her face down to his and said with set emphasis:
“Do you want to stay all afternoon in the kitchen cupboard?”
He struggled to be free, reiterating:
“No, I don’t, and I ain’t goin’ to. I think you’re real mean to me; I ain’t goin’ to go nowhere with you.”