"Loafer! Low-life! No-'count! His whole body ain't worth so much as your
little finger. I'll learn him to be a worry to you with this all-night
business. By God! I'll learn my loafer of a son to--"
On the pistol shot of that, Sara's body jumped out of its rigidity, all
her faculties coiled to spring.
"He isn't! You know he isn't! 'Loafer'! Shame on you! Whatever else he
is, he's not a loafer. Boys will be boys--you say so yourself. 'Loafer'!
You should know once what some parents go through with real _loafers_
for sons--"
"No child what brings you such worry is anything else than a loafer!"
"And I say 'no'! The minute I so much as give you a finger in finding
fault with that boy, right away you take a hand!"
"I'll break his--"
"You don't know yet a joke when you hear one. I wanted to get you mad! I
get a little tired and I try to make myself funny."
"There wasn't no funniness in the way your eyes looked when you--"
"I tell you I didn't mean one word. No matter what uneasiness that child
has brought me, always he has given me more in happiness.
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