Ethelwolf was the last of the visitors. For by this time _Mere_ had
accumulated so many absolutely unforgivable grievances against her
absolutely impossible husband that she felt qualified for that crown of
comfortable martyrhood, that womanly ideal, "a wife in name only"--and
only that "for the sake of the children."

By this time the children, too, had acquired grievances against Pop. The
more refined they grew the coarser-grained he seemed. They could not
pulverize him in the coffee-mill of criticism. He was as hopeless in
ideas as in language. It was impossible to make him realize that the
best is always the cheapest; that fine clothes make fine people; that
petty economies are death to "the larger flights of the soul"; and that
parents have no right to have children unless they can give them what
other people's children have.

If John Grout complained that he was not a millionaire the younger
Grouts retorted that this was not their fault, but their misfortune; and
it was "up to Pop" to do the best he could during what _Mere_ was now
calling their "formative years." The children had liberal ideas,
artistic and refined ideals; but Pop was forever talking poor, always
splitting pennies, always dolefully reiterating, "I don't know where the
money is coming from!"

It was so foolish of him, too--for it always came from somewhere. The
children went to the best schools, traveled in Europe, wore as good
clothes as anybody--though they did not admit this, of course, within
father's hearing, lest it put false notions into his head; and the sons
made investments that had not yet begun to turn out right.

Parents cannot fool their children long, and the Grout youngsters had
learned at an early date that Pop always forked over when he was nagged
into it. Any of the children in trouble could always write or telegraph
home a "must have," and it was always forthcoming. There usually
followed a querulous note about "Sorry you have to have so much, but I
suppose it costs a lot where you are. Make it go as far as you can, for
I'm a little pinched just now." But this was taken as a mere detail--an
unfortunate paternal habit.

That was Pop's vice--his only one and about the least attractive of
vices. It was harrowing to be the children of a miser--for he must have
a lot hoarded away. His poor talk, his allusions to notes at the bank
and mortgages and drafts to meet, were just bogies to frighten them with
and to keep them down.