"In these days," I began, but Francesca interrupted me.
"When anyone starts like that," she said, "I know he's going to make
the War an excuse for doing something rather more paltry than usual."
"'Paltry' is not," I said, "a very nice word."
"I'll take the phrase back and substitute 'rather less noble and
generous.'"
"Yes, I like that better. I'll pass it in that form as your comment on
what you haven't yet allowed me to say."
"Quick," she said; "what was it? Don't leave me in suspense."
"In these days," I said, "one mustn't spend too much on railway
companies."
"True," she said. "I'm with you there in these or any other days."
"And therefore," I continued, "it will be quite enough if one of us
accompanies Frederick, our lively ten-year-old, to begin his second
term at school. There is no necessity whatever for both of us to go
with him."
"Hear, hear!" said Francesca; "your idea is better than I thought. I
will go with Frederick and you can stay at home and look after the
girls."
"No," I said firmly, "I will take Frederick, and you must remain
behind and keep an eye on Muriel, Nina and Alice."
"No," she said.
"Yes," I said; "my eye's not good enough for the job; it hasn't been
trained for it. I should be sure to mislay one of the girls, and then
you'd never forgive yourself for having put upon me a burden greater
than I could bear. Besides," I added, "goings back to school are in
the man's department, with football, cricket, boxing and things of
that kind."
"And what," she said scornfully, "are you graciously pleased to leave
in my department?"
"Oh, I thought you knew. I leave to you table-manners, tidiness
(that's a tough one), hand-washing (that's a tougher), reading aloud
from Kipling and tucking him up in bed."
"Quite a good list, if by no means a complete one; but in these days
one mustn't be too critical. Anyhow it proves that I must take the boy
back to school."
"It proves just the contrary."
"No," she said, "it proves what ought to be there by leaving it out."
"That," I said, "is a record even for you, Francesca."
"Well, it's logical anyway. How, for instance, could you talk to
the Matron? You'd be utterly lost before you'd been at it for half
a minute."
"Don't you worry about that," I said. "I have accomplishments of which
you don't seem to be aware, and one of them is talking to Matrons at
preparatory schools."
"Anyhow, you're not going to have a chance of showing it off this
time, _because I am going to take the boy back to school_. That's
final."
It was, and in due time Francesca took the boy back. Her account of
the farewell moments was not without a certain amount of pathos,
several other mothers and their boys being involved in the valedictory
scene. Four or five days afterwards, however, we received the
following letter, which put to flight any idea that Frederick might be
pining:--
"I am very happy this term, and I am getting on fairly well in my
work. I like football much better than cricket. I have three or four
times just not got a goal, once it was when I kicked into goal the
goalkeeper (3 st. 4 lb.!) rushed out and kicked it away, and once when
we were playing Blues and Reds, and I was on the Blue side, and I
managed by good luck to get through a crowd of shouting Reds and
followed it up amidst shouts from the Blues and shot it to the Red
goal; but the goalkeeper (a different one) came out and hit it away,
at which I twisted my knee and collapsed (not with pain, because it
wasn't anything, but with anger and _desparation!_) Am I to learn
boxing this term? I am sorry to hear the hens are not behaving well."
I should like to have seen the bold goalkeeper of 3 st. 4 lb. It is a
proud weight.