"Where was he?" Catherine had him now; she lifted Charles's hand away and touched the boy. He was trembling—Charles had been rough!
"I was just playing," Spencer cried out, gruffly. "I didn't know you'd tell the police."
"You've been told to come straight home, haven't you? Tell your mother what you told me, sir!"
"Charles!" Catherine's flash at him was unpremeditated. "You needn't bully him!"
"Tell her!" roared Charles.
"I just said"—Spencer's words tumbled out, full of impotent fury and indistinct with tears—"I said—I said—I didn't want to come home to that old Kelly. I didn't want——"
"He said," remarked Charles coldly, "that he saw no use of coming home when his mother wasn't here."
"But where was he?" Catherine had her arm over his shoulder, in a protective gesture. "Where did you find him?"
"I heard his voice. As I came along Broadway, past that vacant lot. He was down behind the bill boards there, with some street gamins, doing the Lord knows what."