Such is "Mowing the Barley," which I always think our best song, but there is not one of the many hundreds which our indefatigable Director has collected and scored that has not a certain charm. And you can understand that I am proud to be able to help him in his organized effort to find still more, with new dances too, wherever they are still remembered, and to get enthusiasts to sing and dance them. CHAPTER V IN WHICH WE FIND LOVERS OF TWO KINDS AND MEET WITH A POIGNANT INVENTION "What we want," the Director said, "in particular, is young men and young women to be enthusiastic about these songs and dances and get them spread about;" and lunching with Naomi at her father's, and finding there Dollie Heathcote and with him the young woman to whom, after various flirtations with others, he has become engaged, I endeavoured to kindle them. But to little purpose. Dollie, like all young men with good education and no particular bent, is just now, having given up his mild liaison with the law, thinking of selling motor-cars, and to such a character folk-song and dance has no more attraction than a nut-food luncheon to a company promoter. His line of music is that purveyed at the Gaiety and the Halls; and all he would say in commendation of our simple pleasures was that if we could do anything half as good as "In the Shadows" we might count on him to whistle it. His fiancée, a Miss Ann Ingleside, was hardly more promising as regards the songs, but was quite willing to come to one of the dance classes and see if it was good enough fun to go on with; and that is something gained. Why these young people should be engaged is not patent to the ordinary observer, for each seems to be an adept at independence, and they give no signs of tenderness or even affection. But among the leisured classes the devout lover has gone out. They were talking at lunch about the afternoon's plans. Dollie was for a matinee; Ann for a hockey final at Richmond. They were selfish enough to refuse each to give way to the other, but not sufficiently detached to wish to be alone. Such conflicts naturally end in victory for the stronger, since there is no spontaneous giving way, and of course that was Ann. So Heathcote had to forego his matinee. Personally I think I would like to see some colourable imitation of turtle-doving come in again. It was very silly, no doubt, for young couples to be so publicly fond, and yet it was rather pretty too; whereas the new ostentation of cool self-sufficiency can be almost ugly. Yet there are still the profounder tendernesses. Let me tell you a story: