t, or not. He owns all these buildings now, you know."

"Didn't you, when you were here? Like uncle, like nephew."

"Don't tell George you think he's like me. Just at this time we should
be careful of the young gentleman's feelings."

"Yes," said Eugene. "If we weren't he mightn't let us exist at all."

"I'm sure I didn't have it so badly at his age," Amberson said
reflectively, as they strolled on through the commencement crowd. "For
one thing, I had brothers and sisters, and my mother didn't just sit
at my feet as George's does; and I wasn't an only grandchild, either.
Father's always spoiled Georgie a lot more than he did any of his own'
children."

Eugene laughed. "You need only three things to explain all that's good
and bad about Georgie."

"Three?"

"He's Isabel's only child. He's an Amberson. He's a boy."

"Well, Mister Bones, of these three things which are the good ones and
which are the bad ones?"

"All of them," said Eugene.

It happened that just then they came in sight of the subject of their
discourse. George was walking under the elms with Lucy, swinging a
stick and pointing out to her various objects and localities which had
attained historical value during the last four years. The two older men
marked his gestures, careless and graceful; they observed his attitude,
unconsciously noble, his easy proprietorship of the ground beneath his
feet and round about, of the branches overhead, of the old buildings
beyond, and of Lucy.

"I don't know," Eugene said, smiling whimsically. "I don't know. When I
spoke of his being a human being--I don't know. Perhaps it's more like
deity."

"I wonder if I was like that!" 'Amberson groaned.' "You don't suppose
every Amberson has had to go through it, do you?"

"Don't worry! At least half of it is a combination of youth, good looks,
and college; and even the noblest Ambersons get over their nobility and
come to be people in time. It takes more than time, though."

"I should say it did take more than time!" his friend agreed, shaking a
rueful head.

Then they walked over to join the loveliest Amberson, whom neither time
nor trouble seemed to have touched. She stood alone, thoughtful under
the great trees, chaperoning George and Lucy at a distance; but, seeing
the two friends approaching, she came to meet them.

"It's charming, isn't it!" she said, moving her black-gloved hand to
indicate the summery dressed crowd strolling about them, or clustering
in