ever dreamed of forgetting tea. He served it much more
regularly than dinner because sometimes there wasn't any dinner to
serve. It was a great comfort--the tea, I mean."

"But how extraordinary! And a Chinaman, too."

"I suppose my mother trained him."

"And Vancouver isn't Bainbridge," put in Benis lazily. "A great many
people there are more English than they are in England. All the
old-time Chinese 'boys' served tea as a matter of course."

"Even when no one was calling?"

"Absolutely sans callers of any kind."

"Well, I am sure that is very nice." But it was plain from Aunt
Caroline's tone that she thought it a highly impertinent infringement
upon the privileges of a Spence. She poured her nephew's cup in aloof
silence and refreshed herself with a second before re-entering the
conversation. When she did, it was with something of a bounce.

"Benis," she said abruptly, "can you tell me just exactly what is a
Primitive?"

"Eh?" The professor had been trying to read the afternoon News-Telegram
and sip tea at the same time.

Aunt Caroline repeated her question.

"Certainly," said Spence. "That is to say, I can be fairly exact. Would
you like me to begin now? If you have nothing to do until dinner I can
get you nicely started. And there is a course of reading--"

Aunt Caroline stopped him with dignity. "Thank you, Benis. I infer that
the subject is a complicated one. Therefore I will word my question
more simply. Would an Indian, for instance, be considered a Primitive?"

"Um--some Indians might."

"Oh," thoughtfully, "then I suppose that is what Mrs. Stopford Brown
meant."

Her delighted listeners exchanged an appreciative glance.

"Very probably," said Benis, with tact, "were you discussing Primitives
at the Club?"

"No. Though it might be rather a good idea, don't you think? If, as you
say, there is a course of reading, it would be sufficiently literary, I
suppose? At present we are taking up psycho-analysis--dreams, you know.
It was not my choice. As a subject for club study I consider it too
modern. Besides, I seldom dream. And when I do, my dreams are not
remarkable. However, it seems that all dreams are remarkable. And I
admit that there may be something in it. Take, for instance, a dream
which I had the other night. I dreamed that I was endeavoring to do my
hair and every time I put my hand on a hairpin that horrible parrot of
yours snapped it up and swallowed it. Now, according to
psycho-anal