The air was full of her tossing fists.
"Come ahn, deh hull damn gang of yehs, come ahn," she roared at the spectators.

An oath or two, cat-calls, jeers and bits of facetious advice were given in reply.

Missiles clattered about her feet.
"What deh hell's deh matter wid yeh ?" said a voice in the gathered gloom, and Jimmie came forward.

He carried a tin dinner-pail in his hand and under his arm a brown truckman's apron done in a bundle.
"What deh hell's wrong ?" he demanded.
"Come out, all of yehs, come out," his mother was howling.

"Come ahn an' I'll stamp her damn brains under me feet." "Shet yer face, an' come home, yeh damned old fool," roared Jimmie at her.