"Just one question--a small, trifling question," said the lawyer, preparing his ground well. "Have you ever once set foot in the country you speak of?" "I should think I have," replied the Associate Master. There! The lawyer got nothing for his trifling question. And then it all came out what a heartless jilt Mrs. Molie was. She had known all the time that Mr. Höy had been on a traveling scholarship in Switzerland, but she had never mentioned it. What a snake in the grass! She had even encouraged the lawyer, but no one else, to talk about Switzerland. "Oh, yes, of course Associate Master Höy has been in Switzerland" she said, as though to clinch the matter. "In that case, the Associate Master and I have looked on the country with different eyes; that's all," said the lawyer, suddenly anxious to end the controversy. "They haven't even folk tales there," said the Associate Master, who seemed unable to stop. "There they sit, generation after generation, filing watch springs and piloting Englishmen up their mountains. But it's a country without folk music or folk tales. I suppose you think we ought to work hard to resemble the Swiss in that, too?" "What about William Tell?" asked Miss Johnsen. Several of the ladies nodded, or at any rate Miss Palm did. At this point Mrs. Molie turned her head and looked out of the window as she said: "You really had a very different opinion about Switzerland before, Mr. Associate Master." This was a hit below the belt. He wanted to reply, wanted to annihilate her, but he restrained himself and remained silent. "Don't you remember?" she asked, goading him. "No," he replied. "You mistook my meaning. Really, I can't understand it, I usually make myself quite clear; after all, I'm accustomed to explaining to children." Another foul. Mrs. Molie said no more, merely smiling patiently. "I can only say that my opinion is diametrically opposed to yours," the lawyer repeated. "But I did think," he went on, "that this was one thing I knew something about, however...." Mrs. Molie got up and went out with her head bent, seemingly on the point of bursting into tears. The Associate Master sat still for a moment, and then followed her, whistling and putting on as brave a manner as though he felt quite easy in his mind. "What's your opinion?" asked Mrs. Brede, turning to the doyen of the company, namely myself. And as becomes a man of settled years, I replied: "Probably there has been a little exaggeration on both sides." Everybody agreed with this. But I could never have acted as a mediator, for I thought the Associate Master was right. In one's early seventies, one still has many pathetically young ideas. The lawyer rounded off the discussion thus: