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"Quicksilver in a nest of cracks!" Georgie Minafer had got his come-upance, but the people who had so longed for it were not there to see it, and they never knew it. Those who were still living had forgotten all about it and all about him. There was one border section of the city which George never explored in his Sunday morning excursions.
George rose abruptly, his face the colour of wrath. "Good-night, Miss Morgan. Good-night, Mr. Morgan," he said. "I shall take pleasure in calling at some other time when a more courteous sort of people may be present." "Look here!" the hot-headed Fred burst out. "Don't you try to make me out a boor, George Minafer!
Thus, on a summer afternoon, a strange boy, sitting bored upon the gate-post of the Reverend Malloch Smith, beheld George Amberson Minafer rapidly approaching on his white pony, and was impelled by bitterness to shout: "Shoot the ole jackass! Look at the girly curls! Say, bub, where'd you steal your mother's ole sash!" "Your sister stole it for me!" Georgie instantly replied, checking the pony.
Miss Fanny Minafer was no longer in charge of him: he emerged from the ballroom escorted by a middle-aged man of commonplace appearance. The escort had a dry, lined face upon which, not ornamentally but as a matter of course, there grew a business man's short moustache; and his thin neck showed an Adam's apple, but not conspicuously, for there was nothing conspicuous about him.
Did I tell you the nickname they gave me 'King'? That was what they called me at that school, 'King Minafer." "How'd they happen to do that?" his friend asked innocently. "Oh, different things," George answered lightly.
"They're all right," he called to Isabel, who was running toward them, ahead of her brother and Fanny Minafer. "This snowbank's a feather bed nothing the matter with them at all. Don't look so pale!" "Georgie!" she gasped. "Georgie!" Georgie was on his feet, snow all over him. "Don't make a fuss, mother! Nothing's the matter. That darned silly horse " Sudden tears stood in Isabel's eyes.
Minafer was not mistaken: that was what his son had gone to do. Lucy and her father were just rising from their dinner table when the stirred youth arrived at the front door of the new house.
Kinney had represented Georgie as a new Georgie at least in spots a Georgie who was proving that decent stuff had been hid in him; in fact, a Georgie who was doing rather a handsome thing in taking a risky job for the sake of his aunt, poor old silly Fanny Minafer!
And since the primordial day when caste or heritage first set one person, in his own esteem, above his fellow-beings, it is to be doubted if anybody ever felt more illustrious, or more negligently grand, than George Amberson Minafer felt at this party.
Minafer was to blame for the accident according to patrolman F. A. Kax, who witnessed the affair. The automobile was a small one driven by Herbert Cottleman of 9173 Noble Avenue who stated that he was making less than 4 miles an hour. Minafer is said to belong to a family formerly of considerable prominence in the city.
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