"Boston is no place for assassins!"
By this time Amos and Jim were where they could look into the street; but a view of what was taking place there was not necessary to explain to them the cause of this sudden attack.
They knew that Master Piemont's assistant was making good his threat of the previous evening.
Ten or a dozen half-grown boys, with the barber's apprentice at their head, were pelting the house with missiles of every kind, and Amos's mother cried frantically, as her son was on the point of rushing out to put an end to the disturbance:
"Don't show yourself, my boy, don't show yourself! After what has happened, we must expect that the sins of your uncle will in some degree be visited upon us, and you must do nothing rash, particularly while your father is away from home."
"But, mother, this is only some of Hardy Baker's doings, and I can soon put an end to it, once I get that precious little villain by the throat."
"You would add to the disgrace by fighting on the street?"
"I would show the barber's apprentice that he can't insult honest people without bearing the consequences."
"Come on!" Jim cried, impatiently. "Two of us can handle that crowd!"