“I don’t think so,” said Mr. Flaggon. “The truer analogy would be to say that we are like the specialist who consults the patient’s relatives about the patient’s symptoms. And the relatives are often able to give very helpful information to the specialist.” “Do I understand you to propose,” said Mr. Chowdler in a voice of concentrated irony, “that we should call in their uncles and cousins and aunts and make a regular symposium of it?” Mr. Flaggon winced, but he kept his temper. “I don’t think,” he said, “that in this case there would be any practical advantage in going beyond the parents. What I wanted to say was, that I shall be very grateful if housemasters will let me have the names and addresses of any representative parents who are likely to be interested in such a proposal. I thought perhaps that we might arrange to meet them, quite informally, some time in November or at the beginning of December.” “What exactly do you mean by a representative parent?” asked Mr. Flyte, with the air of a man who is putting a poser. “I must really leave that to the discretion of housemasters,” replied Mr. Flaggon, with a smile. News of the impending parents’ committee ran through the staff like fire through gorse, and soon all Chiltern was ablaze. Some called it the thin edge of the wedge; others, the cloven hoof. The Liberals (for there were a few Liberals even at Chiltern) said that Flaggon was setting up a second Chamber to override the decisions of Masters’ Meetings; the Conservatives, that he was appealing to Demos. All agreed that the innovation was a blow to the prestige of the masters and an infringement of their ancient rights. Even Mr. Plummer felt and spoke strongly, and he imparted his fears to Mr. Bent, as they were taking the hill walk, commonly known as the “Ushers’ Grind,” one sunny autumn afternoon. The friendship of Mr. Bent and Mr. Plummer was founded on a complete dissimilarity of tastes. It is true that they shared a dislike of golf and motors, but in all other respects they were in hearty disagreement. Mr. Plummer’s faith in man goaded Mr. Bent almost into violence, and Mr. Bent’s distrust of human nature in general, and middle-class human nature in particular, filled Mr. Plummer with righteous indignation. At the end of every walk the nerves of each were raw and tingling; but they never failed to walk together twice or even thrice in the course of every week. The particular form of quarrelling in which they indulged had grown upon them like a drug habit, and neither could do without it for long.