“You didn’t seem to like it yourself when Tommy attacked you with a pin,” said Mr. Brackett, laughing. “You didn’t stand on any ceremony, but hauled the boy out of the room,” and Mr. Brackett unguardedly laughed at the recollection.
His wife reddened and inquired, sharply:
“So you choose to compare me to your hired boy, do you, Mr. Brackett?”
“Not that I know of, Lucindy.”
“You seem to think it makes no difference whether Tommy pricks him or me—his ma and your wife,” said Mrs. Brackett, severely.
“Really, Lucindy, you twist my words so I don’t know hardly what I do mean.”
“I want you to stand by your own flesh and blood, Mr. Brackett. I don’t want you to allow them to be imposed on and ill-treated by a young tramp whom you have hired to do chores.”
“I don’t mean to. What do you expect me to do, anyway?”
“I expect you to teach that boy his place.”
“If I don’t treat him well he won’t stay. He’ll leave me all of a sudden, as Peter did.”