“What for?”
“For having such a son.”
“I ain’t a thief!”
“What do you mean by that?” demanded Tom, his face darkening.
“You’ve stolen my ball and thrown it away.”
“I didn’t steal it. I took it because you were too boorish to let me play with you.”
“You’ve lost it for me.”
“If you can’t find it, I’ll pay you for it. My name is Tom Temple. I board with Nathan Middleton. You can send your bill there if you like. Now I’ll wish you good-night and better manners.”
Tom was near the wall at the time. He vaulted over and walked on, leaving the two boys half angry, half curious to know who he was.