This it was which appeared to render the transaction so particularly interesting to the onlookers.
"Go it, young bantam-cock," some one was crying as I approached, "let her have it." "Give it up, do you hear, or I'll murder you!" shrieked the woman.
Billy replied nothing, but continued fighting tooth and nail.

I never saw a child of his age so desperately active.

He struggled not so much to escape his mother's blows aimed at himself, as to elude the clutches she made at a necktie he wore round his throat, which I at first glance recognised as having formerly belonged to Jack Smith.
This article of toilet the woman seemed as determined on having as her son was resolved on keeping.

She probably considered it of some value-- enough, at any rate, to pawn for drink; and Billy's violent refusal to give it up only roused her the more to secure it.
It was a revolting spectacle to watch, this struggle between mother and child.

The one sparing neither blow nor curse, the other silent and active as a cat, watching every movement of his adversary, and ready for the slightest chance of escape.