Then some one got up and said there was just one question she would like to ask, and that was, when Miss Jamieson recommended us to get those beautifully modelled animals for the nursery--she would ask presently for the address where they could be got--was there any one particular animal more than another that she recommended? And was it better to begin with the tame animals, as being less alarming, and work gradually up to the jungle animals, or would that be giving the child a wrong idea of evolution, as, of course, the wild animals did come first, didn’t they? Miss Jamieson disposed of this lady by saying that, so long as they were animals of noble instinct, she did not think it mattered in what order they came, but she thought that unpleasant animals, such as the glutton or the sloth, should be kept for more advanced study. Other inquiries, such as whether a Noah’s Ark were bad in case it biased the mind towards the dogmatic side of religion, instead of dwelling on the larger and more comprehensive issues, and whether playing at soldiers ever resulted in the child becoming brutalised, were dealt with in their turn, and then a vote of thanks to Miss Jamieson was proposed, seconded, and carried, and we had tea. On the way home I passed a house where a young friend of mine lives with his barbarous parents. I felt it my duty to ask how his father was. “We ain’t seen ’im for three days,” said Jimmy. “He’s been on the drunk and pawned everything in the ’ouse--’e’s a fat-’ead, ’e is.” I thought, as I walked home, that Mrs. Flockson perhaps exaggerated the difficulty that parents may have in preserving all that is sweet and gracious without imposing their own individuality too much upon their children. _CHAPTER XXIII_: FOREIGN TRAVEL A superfluity of efficient females and inefficient Mrs. Muffs, combined with the slow poison of County Society, may disagree with anyone in time. I explained this to our country doctor, who is of a different variety to Dr. Smithson. He wants everything boiled, and is a great believer in the emotions. Anyhow, we went abroad just to be out of the way of the fish, and the best people, and all the other things that annoyed me. Packing up was a nightmare. I used to let Louise pack for me, but then I arrived at the end of my journey with a complete outfit of clothes none of which I wanted; besides such trifling mistakes as three combs--just because they happened to be on the dressing-table--and no Aspirin nor water-softener. No one can pack for another without asking questions; neither can those who have not Mrs. Simpson’s strong head remember what they want to take so long as they are being asked. When I was thinking whether I could get my gloves cleaned by sending them in at once, and whether I had better take them myself or let Pierce leave them with a message when he called for the fish, Louise would say: “You will take your grey whipcord coat, I suppose.”