By his advice Mr. Chase, who was conscientious if unimaginative, was getting rid of some of the older boys in his house, who had been vegetating for a long time in the lower forms. He now suggested that the housemaster should try to establish confidential relations with some of the parents of his new boys, and find out from them, if possible, whether all was really well. Mr. Chase looked dubious. “I don’t quite like it,” he said. “It seems a little underhand--rather like going behind people’s backs; because I have been talking a good deal lately to my Prætor and to some of the old boys, and they all assure me that, though there is a prejudice in the school against my house, it is really quite right and as good as any. Besides, I don’t want to alarm parents unnecessarily.” Mr. Flaggon concealed a slight feeling of impatience. “We mustn’t,” he said, “allow ourselves to be bound by a more than Spanish etiquette. We have got to do the very best we can for the boys who are under us, and, if we don’t use whatever help the parents can give us, we are surely guilty of a grave breach of duty. And as for frightening them--no sensible parent would be alarmed at being asked to co-operate with us in the interests of his child. Only, you must choose the right parents; for I’m really afraid there are some who don’t mind what happens to their sons, provided they do well at their games and have a good time.” Mr. Chase yielded to persuasion, and, when he had gone, Mr. Flaggon sat down to a still harder task. He had decided that he must write to Mr. Chowdler. Ordinarily, in handling a delicate situation, he preferred the spoken to the written word. But in this case he felt that he could write more calmly and sympathetically than he could speak; for he was conscious that Mr. Chowdler’s voice and personality jarred upon him, and he feared that, in an interview, this latent irritation might betray itself in a tone or a gesture which would embitter rather than end the quarrel. Anyhow, something had to be done, for the situation was rapidly becoming impossible. Mr. Flaggon was aware of Mr. Chowdler’s indiscretions. The knowledge had come to him through various channels; and, once or twice lately, Mr. Chowdler’s tone and language to himself had been of a kind which it is difficult for a headmaster to ignore with dignity. The letter was a difficult one to compose, and Mr. Flaggon weighed his words very carefully. He tried to recall Mr. Chowdler to a sense of elementary loyalty. He had, he said, every respect for differences of opinion, and he did not expect his own views or actions to pass uncriticised. But there were limits to the manner in which such criticisms could be expressed without doing harm to the school, and he was bound to say that, on several occasions, Mr. Chowdler had--quite unconsciously, no doubt--gone beyond those limits. He disclaimed any personal animus, and ended with a generous tribute to Mr. Chowdler’s many services to Chiltern.