like Dad du." I cross the
Square, and some child, lolling over the board across a doorway, laughs
to me shrilly and waves its arms. If by taking thought, I could send
such a glow to the hearts of those I love, as that child, without
thinking, sends to mine.... But I cannot. I can only wave a hand back
to the child, and be thankful and full-hearted. Often enough I wish I
could have a piano and find out whether my fingers will still play
Chopin, Beethoven, and Bach; often I hanker after a sight of a certain
picture or a certain statue in the Louvre or Luxembourg, for a concert,
a theatre, a right-down good argument on some intellectual point, or
for the books I want to read and never shall. Yet, all in all, I am
never sorry for long. This children's babble and laughter, these
simple, commonplace, wonderful affections, are a hundred times worth
everything I miss.

It is not that I buy the children bananas or give them an infrequent
ha'penny. When bananas and ha'pence are scarce, their love is no less.
It is not that I am always good-tempered and jolly. Sometimes I snap
unmercifully, so that they look at me with scared, inquiring eyes. It
is not that they are always well-behaved. Frequently they are very
naughty indeed. The causes of our sympathy lie deeper.

They are more naive than the children who are in process of being
well-educated; more independent and also more dependent. They feel more
keenly any separation from those they love; they cry lustily if their
mother disappears only for an hour or two; and nevertheless they can
fend for themselves out and about as children more carefully nurtured
could never do. Less able to travel by themselves, they do travel
alone, and in the end quite as successfully. They make more mistakes
and retrieve them better. Affection with them more rapidly and frankly
translates itself into action. They laugh quickly, cry quickly, swear
quickly. "Yu'm a fule!" they rap out without a moment's hesitation; and
I suppose I am, else they wouldn't want to say so. Perhaps I overvalue
the physical manifestations of love, but if a child will take my hand,
or climb upon my knee, or kiss me unawares, then to certainty of its
affection is added a greater contentment and a deeper faith. The peace
of a child that sleeps upon one's shoulder, is given also to oneself.
The appurtenances of love mean much to me; nearness, warmth, caresses.
But I cannot make the advances; I was bred in a different school whe