Edwin himself who had looked forward with foreboding to the birth of the child was surprised and amused when he found what pleasure he gained from his son's companionship. By 1909 he was a busy man with a steadily increasing income, and Dora was able to move to the larger house on which her heart had been set since Edith's move to Sussex Square. For a time she was so happily occupied in furnishing and decorating that life flowed more evenly for both husband and son. The former was spared anything in the nature of a scene for some months; days and even weeks went by without Dora having recourse to her favourite weapon--tears--and the younger Edwin for nearly a year enjoyed the ministrations of the same nursery governess. This tranquil state of things was only a lull. It occurred to Edwin one day that the time had come for his son's education to begin. He mooted the project very tentatively to Dora, hoping that the idea of looking for a suitable kindergarten would prove some solace for what he knew she would regard as a tragic break in her relationship with the little boy. His hopes were unfounded. As he mentioned the word "school," she produced her handkerchief, and before the end of his sentence she was sobbing bitterly. "It's the beginning of the end," she wept, "the beginning of the end. He'll never be mine again; once he goes to school he is lost to me." In vain Edwin pointed out half-jocularly that it was the inevitable destiny of mothers to lose their sons in this way; in vain he attempted to console her by saying it would only be for a few hours daily. She was inconsolable. "It's the beginning of the end," she repeated. "You don't understand how a mother feels, but at least you might postpone it for a year or two." But Edwin was determined that some consistent influence should be brought to bear on his son's impressionable nature and he persisted. A satisfactory kindergarten was decided on, and this in turn was succeeded by a day-school. The younger Edwin adapted very easily to school life, but retained an immense admiration for his father which at times provoked his mother to jealous annoyance. "You're silly about your father," she would say. "It's all very well for me to take you about with me, but it isn't manly to hang round your father as you do." However, Edwin, so easily swayed in many ways, presented a quietly stubborn front to her on this point, and continued to seek his father's company. In the summer of 1914 when he was nearly ten, a severe battle raged over his head. He had been entered for a preparatory school for the Lent Term of 1915, but a vacancy had unexpectedly occurred and Edwin was anxious for the boy to take advantage of it and go one term earlier than had been arranged. Dora set her face against it. "You really are very unreasonable," said Edwin at last, thoroughly exasperated.