Do you think so? Ah, we old men owe a lot to death, for letting us knock about so long among you young fellows and giving us the chance to get educated. Once upon a time the world was foolish enough to believe that the father was there to educate the son. Now, it’s the other way. The son has to put the finishing touches on his father, lest the old simpleton should disgrace himself in the grave before the worms. Thank God, I’ve an excellent teacher in this boy, Karl, of mine; he wages ruthless war upon my prejudices, and doesn’t spoil the old fellow with too much indulgence. Only this morning, for instance, he’s taught me two new lessons. And very skilfully too, without so much as opening his mouth, without even showing himself; in fact, just by not doing so. In the first place, he has shown me that you don’t need to keep your word; secondly, that it’s unnecessary to go to church and freshen up your memory of God’s commandments. Last night he promised me he’d go, and I counted on it, for I thought, “He’ll surely want to thank the Creator for sparing his mother’s life.” But he wasn’t there, and I was quite comfortable in my pew, which indeed is a bit small for two. I wonder how he’d like it, if I were to act on this new lesson of his at once, and break my word to him? I promised him a new suit on his birthday, and so I have a good chance of seeing what pleasure he would take in a ready pupil. But--prejudice, prejudice! I shan’t do it. LEONARD. Perhaps he wasn’t well---- ANTHONY.