Canterton detested Mrs. Brocklebank, but he went in and shook hands with her. She was a large woman, with the look of a very serious-minded white cow. Her great point was her gravity. It was a massive and imposing edifice which you could walk round and inspect, without being able to get inside it. This building was fitted with a big clock that boomed solemnly at regular intervals, always making the same sound, and making it as though it were uttering some new and striking note. “I see you are one of those, Mr. Canterton, who like to let children run wild.” “I suppose I am. I’d rather my child had fine legs and a good appetite to begin with.” His wife joined in. “Lynette could not read when she was six.” “That was a gross crime, Gertrude, to be sure.” “It might be called symptomatic.” “Mrs. Brocklebank, my wife is too conscientious for some of us.” “Can one be too conscientious, Mr. Canterton?” “Well, I can never imagine Gertrude with holes in her stockings, or playing at honey-pots. I believe you wrote a prize essay when you were eleven, Gertrude, and the subject was, ‘How to teach children to play in earnest.’ If you’ll excuse me, I have to see Lavender about one of the hothouses before I dress for dinner.” He left them together, sitting like two solemn china figures nodding their heads over his irresponsible love of _laissez-faire_. Mrs. Brocklebank had no children, but she was a great authority upon them, in a kind of pathological way. “I think you ought to make a stand, Gertrude.” “The trouble is, my husband’s ideas run the same way as the child’s inclinations. I think I must get rid of Miss Vance. She is too easygoing.” “The child ought soon to be old enough to go to school. Let me see, how old is she?” “Seven.” “Send her away next year. There is that very excellent school at Cheltenham managed by Miss Sandys. She was a wrangler, you know, and is an LL.D. Her ideas are absolutely sound. Psychological discipline is one of her great points.” “I must speak to James about it. He is such a difficult man to deal with. So immovable, and always turning things into a kind of quiet laughter.” “I know. Most difficult—most baffling.”