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"You stop that, you!" Georgie cried fiercely; and wrenched himself
away. "I guess you don't know who I am!"
"Yes, I do know!" the angered Mr. Smith retorted. "I know who you
are, and you're a disgrace to your mother! Your mother ought to be
ashamed of herself to allow--"
"Shut up about my mother bein' ashamed of herself!"
Mr. Smith, exasperated, was unable to close the dialogue with dignity.
"She ought to be ashamed," he repeated. "A woman that lets a bad boy
like you--"
But Georgie had reached his pony and mounted. Before setting off at
his accustomed gallop, he paused to interrupt the Reverend Malloch
Smith again. "You pull down your vest, you ole Billygoat, you!" he
shouted, distinctly. "Pull down your vest, wipe off your chin--an' go
to hell!"
Such precocity is less unusual, even in children of the Rich, than
most grown people imagine. However, it was a new experience for the
Reverend Malloch Smith, and left him in a state of excitement. He at
once wrote a note to Georgie's mother, describing the crime according
to his nephew's testimony; and the note reached Mrs.


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