Richie slid part way off his chair, remembered, and slid back on again. "Kin I go?" he asked.
"Please may I be excused," corrected his father.
ichie repeated, received a nod and ran out of the dinette and through the kitchen, grabbing a handful of cookies on the way. The screen door banged behind him as he raced into the backyard.
"Richie!" Margery started after him, eyes ablaze. Then she stopped and came back to the table with the coffee. "That boy! How long does it take before they get to be civilized?" Jonathan laughed. "Oh, sure," she went on, sitting down opposite him. "It's funny to you. But if you were here all day long—" She stirred sugar into her cup. "We should have sent him to camp, even if it would have wrecked the budget!"
"Oh? Is it that bad?"
Margery shuddered. "Sometimes he's a perfect angel, and then—It's unbelievable, the things that child can think of! Sometimes I'm convinced children are another species altogether! Why, only this morning—"
"Well," Jonathan broke in, "next summer he goes to camp." He stood up and stretched.
Margery said wistfully, "I suppose you want to get back to work."