o whatever you like. Now there is Alan calling, and
we'll leave the paths strewn with these cut stalks as a Memento Mori to
the gardener. What a charming woman your mother is. She has that
exquisite vagueness which when allied with good breeding is perfectly
irresistible, at any rate to a practical and worldly old woman like me.
But then I've had an immense amount of time in which to tidy up.
Pleasant hours to you down here. It's delightful to hear about the place
the sound of boys laughing and shouting."

Michael left Mrs. Carthew, rather undecided as to what exactly she
thought of him or Alan or anybody else. As he walked over the lawn that
went sloping down to the stream, he experienced a revulsion from the
interest he took in listening to what people thought about him, and he
now began to feel an almost morbid sensitiveness to the opinion of
others. This destroyed some of the peace which he had sought and
cherished down here in the country. He began to wonder if that wise old
lady had been laughing at him, whether all she said had been an implied
criticism of his attitude towards existence. Her praise must have been
grave irony; her endorsement of his behaviour had been disguised
reproof. She really admired Alan, and had only been trying as gently as
possible to make him come into line with her nephew. He himself must
seem to her eccentric, undignified, a flamboyant sort of creature whom
she pitied and whose errors she wished to remedy. Michael was mortified
by his retrospect of the conversation, and felt inclined when he saw
Alan to make an excuse and retire from his society, until his
self-esteem had recovered from the rebuke that had lately been
inflicted. Indeed, it called for a great effort on Michael's part to
embark in the canoe with his paragon and sit face to face without
betraying the wound that was damaging his own sense of personality.

"You had a very long jaw with Aunt Enid," said Alan. "I thought you were
never coming. She polished me off in about three minutes."

Michael looked darkly at Alan for a moment before he asked with
ungracious accentuation what on earth Alan and Mrs. Carthew had talked
about.

"She was rather down on me," said Alan. "I think she must have thought I
was putting on side about getting my Eleven."

Michael was greatly relieved to hear this, and his brow cleared as he
enquired what was wrong.

"Well, I can't remember her exact words," Alan went on. "But she said I
must be