"God ain't p'lite, Muvvah."
"Hello!" laughed Loring.
"Sssh!" said Sophy, flashing him a vexed look.
"Why, darling?" she asked her son.
"'Cause ev'y night I talks and talks to God, an' He never even says, 'Mh-Mh, Bobby.' Vat ain't p'lite—are it?"
Loring strode on ahead to have his laugh out. He thought Bobby the "funniest little beggar" in the world. She was always scolding him for laughing at the boy out of season.
"Children and dogs hate being laughed at," she now told him. "Didn't you hate being laughed at when you were little?"
"Can't remember," said Loring. "I suppose so. But as for that, men don't like being laughed at either."
"You don't, I know. But it's very good for you."
"Why isn't it good for the General?"