“You’re my gal, and I’ve a right to lick you,” said Mrs. Walsh.
“I’ve got nothing to do with you.”
“Come along!” said granny, attempting to drag Tom with her.
But Tom made a vigorous resistance, and granny began to fear that she had undertaken rather a hard task. The distance from Eighteenth Street to the tenement house which she called home was two miles, probably, and it would not be very easy to drag Tom that distance against her will. A ride in the horse-cars was impracticable, since she had no money with her.
The struggle was still going on, when Tom all at once espied a policeman coming around the corner. She did not hesitate to take advantage of his opportune appearance.
“Help! Police!” exclaimed Tom, in a loud voice.
This sudden appeal startled granny, whose associations with the police were not of the most agreeable nature, and she nearly released her hold. She glared at Tom in speechless rage, foreseeing that trouble was coming.
“What’s the matter?” asked the officer, coming up, and regarding the two attentively.
“I think this woman must be crazy,” said Tom. “She came up and asked me for a few pennies, and then grabbed me by the arm, saying she was my granny. She is trying to drag me home with her.”
“What have you to say to this?” demanded the policeman.