When we got there Banty Gage, who lives next door, and Skoodles Gordon were sitting on top of the shed, waiting for me to turn up. I had told them about Catty Atkins, and they were interested to see him and to watch him shoot with that beanie of his. When Catty saw them he came close to turning around and going off, but I hung onto him, and Skoodles and Banty came down off of the shed. “This is Catty Atkins that I told you about,” says I, and then I told him what their names were. He didn’t say much and acted sort of offish and quiet, but that didn’t last. In a while we were shooting away and having a bully time. Dad came out on the porch a minute and asked how we were getting along, and spoke special to Catty, and then sat down to read his paper. About ten minutes after that Banty Gage’s mother came out and stood looking at us. Then she called to Banty and he went over to the fence. We could hear what she said. “Who is that boy?” she asked, sort of cold and severe. “Catty Atkins,” says Banty. “_Who_ is he? Where did you get acquainted with him?” “Wee-wee brought him home with him.” “Is he that boy you were talking about the other evening? The one whose father is a tramp and who is hanging around that old shanty down by the waterworks?” “Yes, ’m.” “Then you come right straight home. If Mrs. Moore wants her boy to play with that sort of people, all right, but my boy can’t. No telling what he’ll lead you into.” She stopped and looked hard at Catty, who was standing very still, with his lips set and his eyes kind of like they was made out of pieces of polished steel. “He’s a tramp, and there’s no telling what else. Such people aren’t fit to be let at large. I don’t see what the town is thinking of not to shut them up or make them go away. You come right home, and never let me see you with that boy again. Now march.” Catty looked at Mrs. Gage and looked at me and looked at Dad, and then he says to himself, “I sort of knew folks _thought_ that about us, but I didn’t ever hear one of ’em _say_ it before.” And he turned around and started for the back gate. “Where you goin’?” says I, and I was good and mad. He didn’t answer, but kept right on. Then Dad spoke from the porch. “Catty,” says he, and his voice had something in it that sounded good. Catty stopped and looked at him, very sober, with his lips shut tight. “Wait just a moment, Catty,” says Dad, and then he turned to Mrs. Gage. “Mrs. Gage,” says Dad, “Catty is my guest, and as my guest he is entitled to the courtesy of those who are my friends and neighbors. I know Catty, and I am very glad to have him come to my home and play with my son. I am going to give myself the pleasure of calling on Catty’s father. I am sure you spoke hastily and had no wish to hurt this boy as you have hurt him.”