’You have raised a point of particular perspicacity, Meg,’ he replied. ’The atmosphere of this century is becoming increasingly materialistic, as is manifested in its deplorable lack of spirituality and intellectual originality. The universal diminution of intelligent ratiocination, the vacuous verbosity of a vacillating press; the decadent and open opportunism of our public men, the upward movement of the proletariat, inspired by the renegade and socialistic vampires that suck the national blood—all these are symptomatic of the recrudescence of materialism.’ He stopped to breathe here, and I felt I must say gehabt gehaben geworden sein. He doesn’t always talk like that. Sometimes I think he does it to aggravate me, but I know anything modern upsets him. I offered to go with him to look at the Saxon work in the church, as it usually has a calming influence on him, but he said he was better and he hoped he had made himself clear! When I got home I asked Nannie. ’The atmosphere of this century, dearie,’ she said. ’Oh, the same as it’s always been, I should think—three white frosts and a wet day, or three fine days and a thunderstorm.’ I observed that she had made a remark of particular perspicacity, and she asked me if I felt feverish. It is trying when I am trying to increase my vocabulary. Still, on the whole she was helpful, for she said why didn’t I do what I said I was going to and write of the things I know about. ’Tell about the Hickley woods and how you fell in the water, dearie.’ ’But will the general public like that, Nannie?’ ’I should think they’d prefer it to the stuff your uncle writes.’ I feel that she’s right. I must take a firm stand with my relatives. I cannot be blown about by every breath of their doctrine. Besides, my family’s views differ. Uncle Jasper says,— ’The general public is at its best in Oxford and Canterbury.’ ’At Epsom or Ascot,’ my brother asserts. ’Hunting,’ says daddy. ’At early celebration on Easter Day,’ says Aunt Constance, with eyes like a Murillo Madonna. But _I_ like the general public, always, everywhere. It sort of twinkles at one, so I shall tell about the Hickley woods and hope that it will like them just as much as I do.