right that for such people they should be tidied; but do those people
realize what a wall tidiness builds between child and grown-up? Have
they ever thought what a boy feels when his mother comes down to see him
at school and the first thing she does when he comes into the room is
to say that his collar is dirty, or that his hands want washing? At
that moment, perhaps, she lays the first brick in the wall which builds
between mother and son. He is a happy boy and she a blessed mother who
stand always with no wall between them. All a boy demands of his mother
when she comes to see him at school is that she shall behave just
like other people, and that she shall dress properly. If she can be
beautiful, so much the better: it will redound enormously to his credit.
Boys are very sensitive about their belongings, but when praise can
be bestowed they bestow it, as in the case of Tommy, who wrote to his
father, who had been down to the school to play in a match, Fathers
against Sons, "Dear father, you did look odd, but you made the second
biggest score."

While I was pondering over these things, the door opened and my niece
Hyacinth came in.

"Hullo!" she said; "mum's out."

"So I hear," I said; "won't you kiss me?"

"Oh! I forgot," she said, twirling round on one leg and holding out a
cheek to be kissed. "There's going to be a party to it."

"So I see," I said; "what sort of a party?"

"Oh! it's the end-up of the dancing class, four to seven; that's why mum
asked you to come early."

"She isn't in yet?" I asked innocently.

"Oh! she's not coming," said Hyacinth, raising her eyebrows and
laughing; "she always has something to do on dancing days. The Frauleins
get on her nerves. They sit all round the room."

And Hyacinth indicated the position of the Frauleins with a sweep of her
arm.

"What time is it now?" I asked.

"Half past three," she said; "I'm ready."

"I'm not," I said savagely.

I went upstairs, vowing vengeance on Zerlina. I could have shaken
Hyacinth, poor child, and why? Because her legs were too long, or her
skirts too short, or the bow in her hair too large? What a disagreeable,
cross-grained professional aunt I was! Or did I miss the hug Hyacinth
might have given me?

I was only just ready when the children began to arrive. I flew
downstairs and found not only children in every shape and form, but
mothers in big hats and trailing skirts, and Frauleins in small hats and
skirts curtailed, mad