"Oh, Jimmie! Jimmie! Here he is! Here's that new feller!"
Jimmie Trescott was going virtuously towards his luncheon when he heard these cries behind him. He pretended not to hear, and in this deception he was assisted by the fact that he was engaged at the time in a furious argument with a friend over the relative merits of two "Uncle Tom's Cabin" companies. It appeared that one company had only two bloodhounds, while the other had ten. On the other hand, the first company had two Topsys and two Uncle Toms, while the second had only one Topsy and one Uncle Tom.
But the shouting little boys were hard after him. Finally they were even pulling at his arms.
"Jimmie—"
"What?" he demanded, turning with a snarl. "What d'you want? Leggo my arm!"
"Here he is! Here's the new feller! Here's the new feller! Now!"
"I don't care if he is," said Jimmie, with grand impatience. He tilted his chin. "I don't care if he is."
Then they reviled him. "Thought you was goin' to lick him first time you caught him! Yah! You're a 'fraid-cat!" They began to sing "'Fraid-cat! 'Fraidcat! 'Fraid-cat!" He expostulated hotly, turning from one to the other, but they would not listen. In the mean time the Hedge boy slunk on his way, looking with deep anxiety upon this attempt to send Jimmie against him. But Jimmie would have none of the plan.