o the most
careful provision for exactly such states. Over the end of the bed hung
a light, warm pyjama suit of llama-wool, and at the feet of it were two
tall boots of the same material that buckled to the middle of his calf.
So protected, Mr. Britling proceeded to make himself tea. A Primus stove
stood ready inside the fender of his fireplace, and on it was a brightly
polished brass kettle filled with water; a little table carried a
tea-caddy, a tea-pot, a lemon and a glass. Mr. Britling lit the stove
and then strolled to his desk. He was going to write certain "Plain
Words about Ireland." He lit his study lamp and meditated beside it
until a sound of water boiling called him to his tea-making.

He returned to his desk stirring the lemon in his glass of tea. He would
write the plain common sense of this Irish situation. He would put
things so plainly that this squabbling folly would _have_ to cease. It
should be done austerely, with a sort of ironical directness. There
should be no abuse, no bitterness, only a deep passion of sanity.

What is the good of grieving over a smashed automobile?

He sipped his tea and made a few notes on his writing pad. His face in
the light of his shaded reading lamp had lost its distraught expression,
his hand fingered his familiar fountain pen....

Section 8

The next morning Mr. Britling came into Mr. Direck's room. He was pink
from his morning bath, he was wearing a cheerful green-and-blue silk
dressing gown, he had shaved already, he showed no trace of his
nocturnal vigil. In the bathroom he had whistled like a bird. "Had a
good night?" he said. "That's famous. So did I. And the wrist and arm
didn't even ache enough to keep you awake?"

"I thought I heard you talking and walking about," said Mr. Direck.

"I got up for a little bit and worked. I often do that. I hope I didn't
disturb you. Just for an hour or so. It's so delightfully quiet in the
night...."

He went to the window and blinked at the garden outside. His two younger
sons appeared on their bicycles returning from some early expedition. He
waved a hand of greeting. It was one of those summer mornings when
attenuated mist seems to fill the very air with sunshine dust.

"This is the sunniest morning bedroom in the house," he said. "It's
south-east."

The sunlight slashed into the masses of the blue cedar outside with a
score of golden spears.

"The Dayspring from on High," he said.... "I thought of rather a use