Perhaps he hoped his uncle would give him a kiss, but Clementine had something far better in store. He threw an arm round the narrow little shoulders and gave Wynne a combined pat and hug. The broad comradeship of the action was fine—magnificent. Pals both! One good man to another! it seemed to say. Stanley and Livingstone must have met and parted in suchwise. “A capital day,” said Uncle Clem. “We must repeat it—you and I. Better wait, Jehu, for I shan’t be long.” The atmosphere of the drawing-room struck a chill as they entered. From the reserve displayed it was clear that Wynne’s parents had been discussing the expedition adversely. “Go and change your boots, Wynne,” said his mother. It was a cold welcome, he reflected, as he departed in obedience to the command. “That’s a good boy,” remarked Uncle Clem. “I hope he will prove so,” said Mr. Rendall, devoutly, as befitted a Sunday evening. Mrs. Rendall said nothing. She had nothing to say. Granted the necessary degree of courage she would have been glad to ask Clem to change his boots, but circumstances being as they were she was denied the privilege, and kept silent. “Yes, there’s a lot in him. You’ll have to go to work pretty carefully to bring it out. A rare bulb with delicate shoots. Touch ’em the wrong way and they’ll wither, but with the right amount of nursing and the right degree of temperature there are illimitable possibilities. Interesting thing education!” “Yes,” concurred Mr. Rendall. “A sound business education fits a boy for after life.” “Business! H’m! Think he suggests a likely subject for business, Robert? I fancy, when the time comes, the boy’s bent may lie in other directions.” “The boy will do as he is told, Clem.” Clem smiled, looked at the ceiling, and shook his head. “Which of us do?” he said. “Never even the likely ones. You may bend a twig, but it springs straight again when your hand is removed. Seems to me our first duty toward our children is to encourage their mental direction and not deflect it. Don’t you agree, Mrs. Rendall?” “Oh, yes,” replied that lady, with her inevitable falling inflection. “No, you don’t,” snapped her husband, “so why say you do? No reason at all! In the matter of educating children, Clem, I cannot see you are qualified to hold an opinion. The first duty of a parent is to instil in the child a sense of duty to its parent.” “Oh, bosh!” said Clem, pleasantly. “Absolute bosh. Respect and duty are not a matter of convention or of heredity, they must be inspired.” “We are not likely to agree, so why proceed?”