He looked up at Sophy, his chin quivering. He resented Loring's imitation of the way that he pronounced "mother."
"Don't you?" he appealed to her.
She stooped to him.
"More than anything in the whole, round world or the blue sky," she reassured him. He smiled to feel her lips on his cheek. Close in her ear he whispered:
"We don't want him, do we? Make him go away."
"No. We must always be polite," she whispered back.
He sighed deeply.
"It's awful hard being p'lite," he mourned. "Mos' as hard as being good."
They all walked on in silence for a few moments.
Then Bobby said, with what Sophy called his "inspirational look":