There were plenty of things for John to do, but John did not feel in the mood for doing any of them, and he resented the fact that Mr. Brett did not give him the provocation of suggesting that he should begin doing them. “I thought,” Mr. Brett observed by-and-bye, “that I heard the sound of a lawn mower about half an hour since, but I guess I was mistaken: it seems to have stopped.” The vials of John’s wrath were unloosed. “It has stopped,” he said furiously, and then he gave a reproduction in a slightly milder form of what he had said to the gardener. He concluded by kicking Bichon into the nearest hedge. This broke off two handsome gladioli of which John had been justly proud, and did nothing to dishearten the vocal explosions of the Poms. When their shrieks had died away into the distance, Mr. Brett spoke again. “Does it matter seriously?” he asked, “about that old lawn?” It seemed to John the weakest thing he had ever heard his father-in-law say. He tried to explain that the lawn was a symbol and mowing it a fixed religious principle, but it was always difficult to explain symbols to Mr. Brett. “Well,” said his father-in-law patiently, “I guess I wouldn’t let a little thing like a principle worry me. If you want peace, John, you better let symbols rip. I never knew a man keep peaceful with a raft of symbols around him.” Then John broke down. He poured out the accumulated bitterness of the last fortnight. “Now, John,” said Mr. Brett gently, when John’s category came to an end. “Let’s give all those other things the go bye. When you get irritated, it helps a heap to stick to one fact. I get more comfort out of a solid fact than I get out of a whole pack of fine arguments. “Let’s get back to the mowing machine. “Either you ought not to have started mowing that lawn, or else you should have gone on mowing it until it was finished.” “Yes, I know that,” said John, whose temper was already a trifle soothed. “That stripe looks awful—just in front of the house too!” “I wasn’t thinking of the stripe,” said Mr. Brett, starting on a fresh hollyhock. “I guess you and I could stand a stripe on a piece of grass as well as a Zebra stands it on his back, if we had to. What I was thinking of was your future. “I daresay you think I’ve been kind of tea-coseying out of your situation, sitting under an embroidered cushion and keeping warm, don’t you, John? Well!—I was waiting for that symbol of yours to come along. It don’t do to butt in before a man hollers. As long as you thought I had a prejudice against Hermione I should only have made things worse, and Hermione would have got in under my skin. Now I’ll give you all I’ve got on the subject; and I’ll go right on giving it to you. “There’s just two ways of treating Hermione. The best way—miles and miles the best way—is to have nothing at all to do with her. It’s too late to think of that now. The other way is never to let her rile you.