reat play
with the word 'efficiency.'

"We aren't clear enough," he used to say, "about what we want. We
chatter airily at congresses about education, but we never really
formulate our wants and bully people into doing things. We don't train
our teachers or tell them what is needed ... we just plug them down.
Besides the schools aren't to blame: we've got to keep in touch with
the two big varsities, and if they insist on everybody mugging up just
enough Greek to be a nuisance, we've got to see about the mugging.

"And on the other side there are the parents. We don't get the boys
till they are thirteen or fourteen, fashioned all ready in many ways.
I don't know what the parents do want, but they certainly don't want
education. Ask any housemaster about the letters they write: they're
nearly always economic. Why does this cost extra and why doesn't Harry
get that free?"

"I suppose that's fairly natural," said Martin.

"Of course. But it shouldn't be all. It's typical of the British
attitude. You buy your son an education costing so much, as you would
buy him a suit of clothes. They don't care twopence about the teaching
or the curriculum, except in so far as it concerns passing exams and
leads to money. Parents write about Tom's chances for Sandhurst, but
who ever writes about his classics? It's all taken for granted, even
its sickening narrowness. No one ever heard of a parent slanging the
headmaster because his son didn't know who wrote _The Alchemist_ or
because he thought Chopin was a music hall comedian."

"Do you suppose," asked Martin, "that fifty per cent of the Elfreyan
parents know there is a play called _The Alchemist_?"

"Well, I wouldn't bet on it," said Finney. "Still there it all is.
Ignorance and muddle. We've got so horribly linked up. Union may be
strength, but strength may be tyranny. Capital is all knotted
together. Labour soon will be, and Education is in the same way. We
can't change without the others changing, the others can't change
without the varsities----"

"And the varsities won't change till public opinion blows them to
bits," added Martin. "So it all comes back to the dear old _vox
populi_."

"I suppose so," said Finney wearily. "Come and have some tea."

Although he found Finney's suggestions disappointing, Martin continued
to ponder occasionally on the phenomena of school life, and when he
went to Devonshire for the Easter holidays he took the opportunity o