"Mr. Scales kept me a bit later than common," replied Tad; "we was very busy."
"I don't believe that's anything but a excuse," retorted the woman. "It's a deal more likely as how you've been playin' round with them rude street boys that you learns your pretty manners from."
Tad flushed scarlet with rage.
"I came straight home," said he; "I ran all the way to try and get back quick. I don't tell lies, and I think you ought to believe me."
"Hark at that, now! Jim, just do hark at that! Ought to, forsooth! Ain't there any other thing, if you please, that I ought to do?"
"Yes," shouted Tad, beside himself with passion—"lots of 'em!"
"Shut up, will you?" roared James Poole, bringing his heavy fist down upon the table. "Am I never to have a minute's peace at home?"
"'Tain't my fault, dad," said the boy; "I ain't gone and done nothin'."
"No, everybody knows you never do nothin'," sneered his stepmother. "You're just one of they poor critturs that's put upon all the time by other folks, when you're as innercent as a angel."
Tad got up and pushed his plate away without having touched a mouthful.