What was my dismay and indignation to hear him utter the following words: "If you weren't your father's son, Ranald, and my own old friend, I would serve you just the same." Wrath and pride arose in me at the idea of Turkey, who used to call himself my horse, behaving to me after this fashion; and, my evil ways having half made a sneak of me, I cried out: "I'll tell my father, Turkey." "I only wish you would, and then I should be no tell-tale if he asked me why, and I told him all about it.

You young blackguard! You're no gentleman! To sneak about the streets and hit girls with snowballs! I scorn you!" "You must have been watching, then, Turkey, and you had no business to do that," I said, plunging at any defence.
"I was not watching you.

But if I had been, it would have been just as right as watching Hawkie.

You ill-behaved creature! You're a true minister's son." "It's a mean thing to do, Turkey," I persisted, seeking to stir up my own anger and blow up my self-approval.
"I tell you I did not do it.

I met Elsie Duff crying in the street because you had hit her with a dirty snowball.