usband's mother gracefully
retired to a villa in Sussex; the rector called and expressed
gratification; the county families left their cards and inquired after
her father, the ironmonger.

Unfortunately the new Lady Durwent had the temperament neither of a
poet nor of a lady of the aristocracy. She failed to hear the tongues
in trees, and her dramatic sense was not satisfied with the little
stage of curtsying tenantry and of gentlefolk who abhorred the very
thought of anything theatrical in life.

On the other hand, her husband was a man who was unhappy except on his
estate. He thought along orthodox lines, and read with caution. He
loved his lawns, his gardens, his horses, and his habits. He was a
pillar of the church, and always read a portion of Scripture from the
reading-desk on Sunday mornings. His wife he treated with simple
courtesy as the woman who would give him an heir. If his mind had been
a little more sensitive, Lord Durwent would have realised that he was
asking a hurricane to be satisfied with the task of a zephyr.

They had a son.

The tenants presented him with a silver bowl; Lord Durwent presented
them with a garden fete; and the parents presented the boy with the
name of Malcolm.

Two years later there came a daughter.

The tenants gave her a silver plate; Lord Durwent gave them a garden
fete; and he and his wife gave the girl the name of Elise.

Three years later a second son appeared.

There was a presentation, followed by a garden fete and a christening.
The name was Richard.

In course of time the elder son grew to that mental stature when the
English parent feels the time is ripe to send him away to school. The
ironmonger's daughter had the idea that Malcolm, being her son, was
hers to mould.

'My dear,' said Lord Durwent, exerting his authority almost for the
first time, 'the boy is eight years of age, and no time must be lost in
preparing him for Eton and inculcating into him those qualities which
mark'----

'But,' cried his wife with theatrical unrestraint, 'why send him to
Eton? Why not wait until you see what he wants to be in the world?'

Lord Durwent's face bore a look of unperturbed calm. 'When he is old
enough, he must go to Eton, my dear, and acquire the qualities which
will enable him to take over Roselawn at my death'----

At this point Lady Durwent interrupted him with a tirade which, in
common with a good many domestic unpleasantries, was born of much that