Miss Grahame was driven to the conclusion that
the subject was dangerous.

She could not, however, resist saying:--"He _must_ know _some_ time, you
know, Mr. Wardle. Surely you would never have Dave grow up uneducated?"

"Not so sure about that, ma'am!" said Uncle Mo, shaking a dubious head.
"There's more good men spiled by schoolmasters than we hear tell of in
the noospapers." What conspiracy of silence in the Press this pointed at
did not appear. But it was clear from the tone of the speaker that he
thought interested motives were at the bottom of it.

Now Miss Grahame was said by critical friends--not enemies; at least,
they said not--to be over-anxious to confer benefits of her own
selection on the Human Race. Her finger-tips, they hinted, were itching
to set everyone else's house in order. Naturally, she had a strong bias
towards Education, that most formidable inroad on ignorance of what we
want to know nothing about. Uncle Mo regarded the human mind, if not as
a stronghold against knowledge, at least as a household with an
inalienable right to choose its guests. Miss Grahame was in favour of
invitations issued by the State, and _vise'd_ by the Church. Everything
was to be correct, and sanctioned. But it was quite clear to her that
these views would not be welcome to the old prizefighter, and she was
fain to be content with the slight protest against Obscurantism just
recorded. In short, Miss Grahame found nothing to say, and the subject
had to drop.

She could, however, lighten the air, and did so. "What on earth are they
about upstairs?" said she. "I really think I might go up and see." And
she was just about to do so, with the assent of Aunt M'riar, when the
latter said suddenly:--"My sakes and gracious! What's that?" rather as
though taken aback by something unaccountable than alarmed by it.

Uncle Mo listened a moment, undisturbed; then said,
placidly:--"Water-pipes, _I_ should say." For in a London house no
sound, even one like the jerk of a stopped skid on a half-buried
boulder, is quite beyond the possible caprice of a choked supply-pipe.

Miss Grahame would have accepted the sound as normal, with some
reservation as to the strangeness of everyday noises in this house, but
for Aunt M'riar's exclamation, which made her say:--"Isn't that right?"

It was not, and the only human reply to the question was a further
exclamation from Aunt M'riar--one of real alarm this time--at a
disintegrating cracking s