or you are one of many who feel the same. So far as I
can see, parents worry about what their children look like to them; but
never about what they look like to their children."

"You speak as a childless widower," answered the other. "Believe me,
Mister Churchouse, children nowadays never hesitate to tell us what we
look like to them--or what they think of us either. Even my sailor boy
will do it."

"It's the result of education," said Ernest. "There is no doubt that
education has altered the outlook of the child on the parent. The old
relation has disappeared and the fifth commandment does not make its old
appeal. Children are better educated than their parents."

"And what's the result? They'd kill the home goose that lays the golden
eggs to-morrow, if they could. In fact, they're doing it. Those that
remain reasonable and obedient to their fathers and mothers feel
themselves martyrs. That's the best sort; but it ain't much fun having a
house full of martyrs whether or no; and it ain't much fun to know that
your offspring are merely enduring you, as a necessary affliction. As
for the other sort, who can't stick home life and old-fashioned ideas,
they just break loose and escape as quick as ever they know how--and no
loss either."

"A gloomy picture," admitted Mr. Churchouse; "but, like every other
picture, it has two sides. I think time may be trusted to put it right.
After the young have left the nest, and hopped out into the world, and
been sharply pecked now and again, they begin to see home in its true
perspective and find that there is nothing like the affection of a
mother and father."

"They don't want anything of that," declared John. "If you stand for
sense and experience and try to learn them, they think you're a fossil
and out of sight of reality; and if you attempt to be young and interest
yourself in their wretched little affairs and pay the boy with the boys
and the girl with the girls, they think you're a fool."

"No doubt they see through any effort on the part of the middle-aged to
be one with them," admitted Ernest. "And for my part I deprecate such
attempts. Let us grow old like gentlemen, John, and if they cannot
perceive the rightness and stateliness of age, so much the worse for
them. Some of us, however, err very gravely in this matter. There are
men who have not the imagination to see themselves growing old; they
only feel it. And they try to hide their feelings and think they are
also