“You would, would you?” said granny, fiercely. “Then it’s lucky you aint;” and she gave her another shake.
“Where are you going to take me?” asked Tom.
“Home. I’ll lock you up for a week, and give you nothin’ to eat but bread once a day.”
“All right!” said Tom. “If I’m locked up at home, I can’t bring you any money.”
This consideration had not at first suggested itself to the vindictive old woman. It would cut off all her revenue to punish Tom as she proposed; and this would be far from convenient. But anger was more powerful just then than policy; and she determined at all events to convey Tom home, and give her a flogging, before sending her out into the street to resume her labors.
She strode along, dragging Tom by the arm; and not another word was spoken till they reached the rear tenement house.
“What’s the matter with the child?” asked Mrs. Murphy, who had just come down into the court after one of her own children.
“She stole my money,” said granny; “and was eatin’ a mighty fine dinner out of it.”
“It was my money, Mrs. Murphy,” said Tom. “I gave granny twenty-two cents when I came home.”
“I hope you won’t go to hurt the child,” said kind-hearted Mrs. Murphy.