.

"Richard," he remonstrated mildly, "I hoped that I should have had your
approval. It seemed to me that a change was taking place in you, that the
player of polo, the wild hunter of an inoffensive little white ball, was
developing into the humanitarian."

"Well, sir," rejoined Dick, "I won't deny that of late I have been
beginning to think that there is a good deal in your theories. But you
mustn't try me too high at the beginning, you know. I am only in my
novitiate. However, please send it to Aunt Margaret, and--oh, how I would
like to hear her remarks upon it!"

An idea occurred to Mr. Hazlewood.

"Richard, why shouldn't you take it over yourself this afternoon?"

Dick shook his head.

"Impossible, father, I have something to do." He looked out of the window
down to the river running dark in the shade of trees. "But I'll go
to-morrow morning," he added.

And the next morning he walked over early to Great Beeding. His aunt
would have received the pamphlet by the first post and he wished to seize
the first fine careless rapture of her comments. But he found her in a
mood of distress rather than of wordy impatience.

The Pettifers lived in a big house of the Georgian period at the bottom
of an irregular square in the middle of the little town. Mrs. Pettifer
was sitting in a room facing the garden at the back with the pamphlet on
a little table beside her. She sprang up as Dick was shown into the room,
and before he could utter a word of greeting she cried:

"Dick, you are the one person I wanted to see."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Sit down."

Dick obeyed.

"Dick, I believe you are the only person in the world who has any control
over your father."

"Yes. Even in my pinafores I learnt the great lesson that to control
one's parents is the first duty of the modern child."

"Don't be silly," his aunt rejoined sharply. Then she looked him over.
"Yes, you must have some control over him, for he lets you remain in the
army, though an army is one of his abominations."

"Theoretically it's a great grief to him," replied Dick. "But you see I
have done fairly well, so actually he's ready to burst with pride. Every
sentimental philosopher sooner or later breaks his head against his own
theories."

Mrs. Pettifer nodded her head in commendation.

"That's an improvement on your last remark, Dick. It's true. And your
father's going to break his head very badly unless you stop him."

"How?"

"Mrs. Ballantyne."

All the