All this Sir George explained very delicately to Hester, on the morning of Nicky Vro's funeral, having called at the school to seek an interview on his way back from the churchyard. "But I am not a decayed gentlewoman," Hester objected; "at least, not yet. I shall be standing in the way of someone who really wants this post, while I am strong and able to earn my living. Also--please do not think me ungrateful or conceited--to teach is my calling, and I take a pride in it." "From all I hear, you have a right to take pride in it. But may I say that these objections occurred to me and that I have a scheme for removing them--a very happy scheme, if you will help. Now, in the first place, will you put the personal question out of sight and consider my scheme on its merits? And next, will you, in advising me, take account of my ignorance?" Hester smiled. "I know," she said, "that kindness can be cunning. I am going to be on my guard." "Well, but listen at any rate," he pleaded, with an eager stammer. "Won't you agree with me that the education you give these children here is dreadfully wasteful?" She glanced at him keenly. "If you are taking the ordinary ratepayer's view--" she began. "I am not taking the ordinary ratepayer's view, except to this extent-- that I think the ratepayers' and taxpayers' money should be spent to the best advantage. But is it?--either here or in any parish in England?" "No, it is not." "Will you tell me why, Miss Marvin?" "Because," answered Hester, "we do a little good and then refuse to follow it up. If we were to take a child and say, 'You shall be a farm labourer,' or 'You shall be a domestic servant, and in due time marry a labourer and rear his family; 'and if, content with this, we were to teach these children just enough for their fate--the boy to plough and work a threshing machine and touch his cap to his betters, the girl to cook and sew and keep house on sixteen shillings a week--why, then there might be something to say for us. We have not the heart to do this, and yet in effect we do more cruelly. We are not tyrants enough to take a child of eight and label him for life: we start him on a kind of education which seems to offer him a chance; and then, just as the prospect should be opening, we suddenly lose interest in him, wash our hands of him, turn him adrift. Some few--a very few--have the grit to push on, unhelped by us, and grasp their opportunity. But for one of these a thousand and more fall back on their fate, and of our teaching the one thing they keep is discontent. We have built a porch, to nowhere. We invest millions; and just as our investment begins to repay us splendidly, we sell out, share by share. That is why I think sometimes, Sir George, in my bitterness, that education in England must be the most wasteful thing in the world." "If, in this corner of England, someone were to set himself to fight this waste, would you help?" "As Mistress of the Widows' Houses?"