"I shall take pleasure in calling at some other time when a more courteous sort of people may be present." "Look here!" the hot-headed Fred burst out.

"Don't you try to make me out a boor, George Minafer! I wasn't hinting anything at you; I simply forgot all about your grandfather owning this old building.

Don't you try to put me in the light of a boor! I won't--" But George walked out in the very course of this vehement protest, and it was necessarily left unfinished.
Mr.Kinney remained only a few moments after George's departure; and as the door closed upon him, the distressed Lucy turned to her father.
She was plaintively surprised to find him in a condition of immoderate laughter.
"I didn't--I didn't think I could hold out!" he gasped, and, after choking until tears came to his eyes, felt blindly for the chair from which he had risen to wish Mr.Kinney an indistinct good-night.

His hand found the arm of the chair; he collapsed feebly, and sat uttering incoherent sounds.
"Papa!" "It brings things back so!" he managed to explain, "This very Fred Kinney's father and young George's father, Wilbur Minafer, used to do just such things when they were at that age--and, for that matter, so did George Amberson and I, and all the rest of us!" And, in spite of his exhaustion, he began to imitate: "Don't you try to put me in the light of a boor!" "I shall take pleasure in calling at some time when a more courteous sort of people--" He was unable to go on.
There is a mirth for every age, and Lucy failed to comprehend her father's, but tolerated it a little ruefully.
"Papa, I think they were shocking.

Weren't they awful!" "Just--just boys!" he moaned, wiping his eyes.