I threw my bike down on the grass and sat down on the cairn. "Between you and me," I said mysteriously, "I had to paint it blue." He raised his eyebrows. "Yea, man!" "Government orders," I said carelessly, and began to throw stones at a tree trunk at the other side of the road. "Government orders?" He looked very much surprised. "Yes," I said airily. "You see, it's like this. The Coalition Government isn't very firmly placed these days, and, well, I'm an agent for it. Of course, you know that it is really a Tory government, and my bike, as it were, invites the electorate to vote True Blue." "Yea, man! I thocht that you was maybe ane o' thae temperance lads frae Americky." "Ah!" I said solemnly, "that reminds me; Pussyfoot tried to induce me to make my tour a sort of joint thing. He suggested that I might carry on my Tory work, and at the same time take part in the blue ribbon campaign. Of course I refused." "Of coorse," he nodded. "Officially I am doing Coalition work," I continued conversationally, "but I have motives of my own." "You don't say!" "Oh, yes. I am a great admirer of Lord Fisher and the Blue Water school, sometimes spoken of as the Blue Funk school. Again, I find that the Great War has left many people in the blues, and by means of homeopathy I cure 'em; I mean to say that they come to their doors and laugh at my blue bike. My blue dispels their blues." The old man did not seem to follow this. "Of course," I went on, "the Bluebells of Scotland have something to do with my selection of the colour." "A verra nice sang," he commented. "An excellent song! Then there is the well-known phrase 'Once in a Blue Moon,' and innumerable songs about the pale moonlight. Also I once knew a man who had the blue devils." I tried to think of other phases of blueness, but my stock was almost exhausted. "Of course," I added, "I am not forgetting the other blues, the Oxford blues, Reckitt's Blue, Blue Coupons, and--and--I'm afraid I can't think of any other blues just at the moment." The old man drew the back of his hand over his mouth. "There's the 'Blue Bonnets' up at the tap o' the brae," he suggested thirstily. "Good idea!" I cried, "come on!" and together we climbed the brae. * * * * * A friend of mine in London has written me asking if I will write an article on Co-education for an educational journal, in which she is interested. I replied: "I can't see where the problem comes in; to a Scot co-education is not a thing that has to be supported by argument; he accepts it as he accepts the law of gravitation." I wonder why English people are so afraid of co-education. To this day schools like Bedales, King Alfred's, Harpenden, and Arundale are reckoned as crank schools. The great middle-class of England believes in segregation. Even Dr. Ernest Jones, the most prominent Freudian psycho-analyst in England, appears to be afraid of it.