'I mean to say that I haven't the slightest intention of letting you squander the money your mother so painfully—'
'That's my money!'
'But I'm your uncle and your guardian——'
'You needn't think you're going to keep that one minute after November seventh!'
'I will use my judgment. I won't be dictated to by a boy who——'
'But you gotta!'
'I have not got to!'
'I won't stand for——'
'Henry, I won't have such talk here. I think you had better go.'
Henry, with a good deal of mumbling, went. He was bewildered. And the little storm of indignant anger had shaken him. He returned, during the ride back past the tenements on the jerky cable-car, through streets that swarmed with noisy, ragged children and frowsy adults and all the smells, to depression. McGibbon said that Uncle Arthur's threat to hold the money after the seventh of November was a distinct point.