"Holy Christmas! Holy—"
Revenge, Faw-Faw, revenge!
"Ma! Ma!"
Hold him, Faw-Faw! Punch him, Faw-Faw! Bloody nose, Faw-Faw! Bloodier than mine! Revenge! Revenge! Faw-Faw, revenge! Information, registration, consideration ... MEMORY:
"Oh, he's been a good boy, Mr. Emory," said Aunt Hulda.
"But he broke the nose of the Brown boy," she added.
"He did what?" said my father.
Would the thick brown strap, the sudden red anger, appear again? I cringed. But Father laughed.
"Well, well, well!" He laughed again, and squeezed my upper arm. I had pleased him! (Oh, Faw-Faw, I love you best, but that moment was sweet, sweet!) "He's a real Emory," my father said. "A real Emory! But don't tell his mother, Hulda. She wouldn't understand."