d Man, in his irritating pink-striped
pajamas, had spoken sharply and made him jump. And that mood, the
product of some overnight reflections on the subject of will power, had
been rising like some vast billow of cumulous vapour touched with
roseate hues from a hidden sun, and he had been just on the brink of
some surprising discovery, when----It was very annoying, for the Old Man
had been preoccupied by a really very petty matter, after all. (The word
"petty" was a favourite with Mr. Spokesly.) It had, however, broken the
spell, and here he was, a few hours later, hopelessly snarled up in all
sorts of interminable strings of ideas. The business of thinking was not
so easy as the London School of Mnemonics made out. Lifting his feet
slowly up and down, he reached out and took Lesson Number Five from the
holdall (with his initials in blue) which hung above his head. As he
turned the richly printed pages, a delicious feeling of being cared for
and caressed stole over him. _Never despair_, said the Lesson gravely,
_Nil Desperandum. Just as the darkest hour is before the dawn, so
victory may crown your toil at the least likely moment._

And so it was! With a feeling of sombre triumph, Mr. Spokesly "saw the
connection" as he would have said. He saw that the importance of that
lost mood lay in the petty annoyance that followed. For the Old Man had
called him down about a mistake. A trifle. A petty detail. A bagatelle.
It only showed, he thought, the narrowness of mind of some commanders.
Now _he_...

But with really remarkable resolution Mr. Spokesly pulled himself up and
concentrated upon the serious side of the question. There had been a
mistake. It was as though the Old Man's quiet sharpness had gouged a
great hole in Mr. Spokesly's self-esteem, and he had been unconsciously
busy, ever since, bringing excuse after excuse, like barrow-loads of
earth, in a vain attempt to fill it up. It was still a yawning hiatus in
the otherwise flawless perfection of his conduct as an officer. He had
made a mistake. And the London School of Mnemonics promised that whoever
followed their course made no mistake. He felt chastened as he
habituated himself to this feeling that perhaps he was not a perfect
officer. He took his feet out of the lukewarm water and reached for a
towel.

It will not do to laugh at such a discovery on the part of Mr. Spokesly.
Only those who have had responsibility can be fully alive to the
enormous significance o