“Perhaps it is natural that a solicitor should be a wild investor,” Sir Eliphaz pursued his subject. “He lives out of the ordinary world in a dirty little office in some antiquated inn, his office fittings are fifty years out of date, his habitual scenery consists of tin boxes painted with the names of dead and disreputable clients; he has to take the law courts, filled with horseboxes and men dressed up in gowns and horsehair wigs, quite seriously; nobody ever goes near him but abnormal people or people in abnormal states: people upset by jealousy, people upset by fear, blackmailed people, cheats trying to dodge the law, lunatics, litigants and legatees. The only investments he ever discusses are queer investments. Naturally he loses all sense of proportion. Naturally he becomes insanely suspicious; and when a client asks for positive action he flounders and gambles.” “Naturally,” said Mr. Dad. “And here we find poor Huss giving all his business over—” “Exactly,” said Sir Eliphaz, and filled his glass. “There’s been a great change in him in the last two years,” said Mr. Farr. “He let the war worry him for one thing.” “No good doing that,” said Mr. Dad. “And even before the war,” Sir Eliphaz. “Even before the war,” said Mr. Farr, in a pause. “There was a change,” said Sir Eliphaz. “He had been bitten by educational theories.” “No business for a headmaster,” said Mr. Farr. “Our intention had always been a great scientific and technical school,” said Sir Eliphaz. “He introduced Logic into the teaching of plain English—against my opinion. He encouraged some of the boys to read philosophy.” “All he could,” said Mr. Farr. “I never held with his fad for teaching history,” said Mr. Dad. “He was history mad. It got worse and worse. What’s history after all? At the best, it’s over and done with.... But he wouldn’t argue upon it—not reasonably. He was—overbearing. He had a way of looking at you.... It was never our intention to make Woldingstanton into a school of history.” “And now, Mr. Farr,” said Sir Eliphaz, “what are the particulars of the fire?” “It isn’t for me to criticize,” said Mr. Farr. “What I say,” said Mr. Dad, projecting his muzzle with an appearance of great determination, “is, fix responsibility. _Fix responsibility._ Here is a door locked that common sense dictated should be open. Who was responsible?” “No one in School House seems to have been especially responsible for that door so far as I can ascertain,” said Mr. Farr. “All responsibility,” said Mr. Dad, with an expression of peevish insistence, as though Mr. Farr had annoyed him, “_all_ responsibility that is not delegated rests with the Head. That’s a hard and fast and primary rule of business organization. In my factory I say quite plainly to everyone who comes into it, man or woman, chick or child....”