d, and almost always
is. You expect not to be understood, and that's dreadfully cross. You
think your father doesn't understand you; no more he does, but don't go
on thinking about it. You think it is a great bore to be your father's
only son, and wish Francis was instead. That's cross; you may think it's
fine, but it isn't, and it is also ungrateful. You can have great fun if
you will only be good-tempered!"

"How did you know that--about Francis, I mean?" asked Michael.

"Does it happen to be true? Of course it does. Every cross young man
wishes he was somebody else."

"No, not quite that," began Michael.

"Don't interrupt. It is sufficiently accurate. And you think about
your appearance, my dear. It will do quite well. You might have had two
noses, or only one eye, whereas you have two rather jolly ones. And do
try to see the joke in other people, Michael. You didn't see the joke
in your interview last night with your father. It must have been
excruciatingly funny. I don't say it wasn't sad and serious as well. But
it was funny too; there were points."

Michael shook his head.

"I didn't see them," he said.

"But I should have, and I should have been right. All dignity is funny,
simply because it is sham. When dignity is real, you don't know it's
dignity. But your father knew he was being dignified, and you knew you
were being dignified. My dear, what a pair of you!"

Michael frowned.

"But is nothing serious, then?" he asked. "Surely it was serious enough
last night. There was I in rank rebellion to my father, and it vexed him
horribly; it did more, it grieved him."

She laid her hand on Michael's knee.

"As if I didn't know that!" she said. "We're all sorry for that, though
I should have been much sorrier if you had given in and ceased to vex
him. But there it is! Accept that, and then, my dear, swiftly apply
yourself to perceive the humour of it. And now, about your plans!"

"I shall go to Baireuth on Wednesday, and then on to Munich," began
Michael.

"That, of course. Perhaps you may find the humour of a Channel crossing.
I look for it in vain. Yet I don't know. . . . The man who puts on a
yachting-cap, and asks if there's a bit of a sea on. It proves to be the
case, and he is excessively unwell. I must look out for him next time I
cross. And then?"

"Then I shall settle in town and study. Oh, here's my father coming
home."

Lord Ashbridge approached down the terrace. He stopped for a moment a