"I've been glad to be your friend," answered Stuyvesant. "You'll write me and tell me how,—how you all are?"
"Certainly," responded John. "Why, of course I will, but I don't know how I can say good-bye! Stuyv, I depend on you awfully. You know,—you know with dad, that is, I can't take his advice because I don't respect him."
"Why not?" broke in John's companion. "I'd like to know why not?"
John's mouth flew open. "His grammar——" he began.
"Trimmings," said K. Stuyvesant.
"Crudeness," said John.
"Companion of strength," said K. Stuyvesant.
"Mentioning money all the time," said John, "how much things cost."
"Better than spending it without mention on dubious objects." John looked away as Stuyvesant replied. "Look here," continued Stuyvesant, "you and I both know the honest goodness in your father—his rugged ideas of a decent life—his respect of them. The other things are tinsel balls on the Christmas tree. Desirable trimmings, but not essential for the tree's strength. A few more years will convince you,—absolutely convince you. Some day you won't even wince when your father forgets and uses his knife to eat from."
"Never," stated John.