ve
that rat-trap away and sell those old horses. They're a disgrace, all
shaggy--not even clipped. I suppose he doesn't notice it--people get
awful funny when they get old; they seem to lose their self-respect,
sort of."

"He seemed a real Brummell to me," she said.

"Oh, he keeps up about what he wears, well enough, but--well, look
at that!" He pointed to a statue of Minerva, one of the cast-iron
sculptures Major Amberson had set up in opening the Addition years
before. Minerva was intact, but a blackish streak descended unpleasantly
from her forehead to the point of her straight nose, and a few other
streaks were sketched in a repellent dinge upon the folds of her
drapery.

"That must be from soot," said Lucy. "There are so many houses around
here."

"Anyhow, somebody ought to see that these statues are kept clean. My
grandfather owns a good many of these houses, I guess, for renting.
Of course, he sold most of the lots--there aren't any vacant ones, and
there used to be heaps of 'em when I was a boy. Another thing I don't
think he ought to allow a good many of these people bought big lots
and they built houses on 'em; then the price of the land kept getting
higher, and they'd sell part of their yards and let the people that
bought it build houses on it to live in, till they haven't hardly any
of 'em got big, open yards any more, and it's getting all too much built
up. The way it used to be, it was like a gentleman's country estate,
and that's the way my grandfather ought to keep it. He lets these people
take too many liberties: they do anything they want to."

"But how could he stop them?" Lucy asked, surely with reason. "If he
sold them the land, it's theirs, isn't it?"

George remained serene in the face of this apparently difficult
question. "He ought to have all the trades-people boycott the families
that sell part of their yards that way. All he'd have to do would be to
tell the trades-people they wouldn't get any more orders from the family
if they didn't do it."

"From 'the family'? What family?"

"Our family," said George, unperturbed. "The Ambersons."

"I see!" she murmured, and evidently she did see something that he did
not, for, as she lifted her muff to her face, he asked:

"What are you laughing at now?"

"Why?"

"You always seem to have some little secret of your own to get happy
over!"

"Always!" she exclaimed. "What a big word when we only met last night!"

"That's another case of