"Don't want to be helped out. I was doin' a man's job and I'll take my punishment like a man."
Seaton spoke quickly. "It wasn't a man's job. It was a thief's job.
You're taking your sentence like a common thief, not like a man."
"Aw, dry up and get out o' here!" snarled Nucky, jumping to his feet and looking his caller full in the face.
Seaton did not stir. In spite of its immaturity, its plainness and its sullenness, there was a curious dignity in Nucky's face, that made a strong appeal to his dignified caller.
"You guys always preachin' to me!" Nucky went on, his boyish voice breaking with weariness and excitement. "Why don't you look out for your own kids and let me alone?"
"My only boy is beyond my care. He was killed three years ago," returned Seaton. "I've had nothing to do with boys since. And I don't give a hang about you. It's your name I'm interested in. I hate to see a fine name in the hands of a prospective gunman."
"And you can't get me with the sob stuff, either," Nucky shrugged his shoulders.
Seaton scowled, then he laughed. "You're a regular tough, eh, Enoch? But you know even toughs occasionally use their brains. Do you want to go to reform school?"
"Yes, I do! Go on, get out o' here!"
"You infernal little fool!" blazed Seaton, losing his temper. "Do you think you can handle me the way you have the others? Well, it can't be done! Huntingdon is a real name in this country and if you think any pig-headed, rotten-minded boy can carry that name to the pen, without me putting up a fight, you're mistaken! You've met something more than your match this time, you are pretty sure to find out sooner or later, my sweet young friend. My hair was red, too, before—up to three years ago."