"Ye wouldn't have yer own mother pinched, little 'un. I'm yer mammy! Don't ye know me?"
He moved threateningly toward her; but a snarl from the furious cat stayed him.
"You lie! You crazy fool! Get up, or I'll kick you out of the house! Get out, I say! Every word you've uttered is a lie!"
"I don't lie," cried Scraggy. "Ye be my boy. Ain't ye got a long dig on ye from—from yer neck to yer arm—a red cut yer pappy made that night I gived ye to the Brimbecomb woman? The place were a bleedin' and a bleedin' all through your baby dress. Wait! I'll show ye where it is." She scrambled up and advanced toward him.
Everett made as if to strike her.
"Get back, I say! I would hate you if you were my mother! You can't fool me with your charlatan tricks!"
The woman sank down, whimpering.
Again Everett sprang forward; but again the cat drove him back.
"Go—go—now!" he muttered. "I can't bear the sight of you!"
There were tones in his voice that reminded Scraggy of Lem, and her heart grew tender as she thought of the father waiting for his child.