Mrs Chadwick caressed the pekinese, and watched the visitor with curious interest the while. It was not, however, in Mrs Chadwick's nature to remain outside any conversation for long; and she gracefully insinuated herself into the talk, to Miss Simpson's further surprise. She expected, when she took the trouble to show her displeasure, to see the object thereof properly quelled. That, too, is a characteristic of parish omnipotence. And, amazingly, Mrs Chadwick was already betraying a desire to interfere in Moresby arrangements. "I visited the schools this morning," she observed, breaking in on Miss Simpson's gossip about the new schoolmaster, who, seemingly, gave every satisfaction, being a great improvement on his predecessor, who was, as Miss Simpson expressed it, a horrid Radical. "It was all very amusing. They are such quaint, blunt little people. I liked them. But the schools want pulling down and rebuilding. Everything is obsolete. The ceilings are too low and the ventilation inadequate. I am all for fresh air." She laughed at sight of Miss Simpson's wooden expression, and at the shiver which ran through her narrow frame as she glanced meaningly at the wide-open window. "Do you feel this too much?" she asked pleasantly, and obligingly drew the window partially down. "Mrs Sommers and I are seasoned; but we blow Mr Musgrave away at times." That, of course, accounted for the absence of the master of the house which Miss Simpson had regretfully noticed. The draughts and the smoke would naturally drive Mr Musgrave away; no self-respecting man would stand it. "I like air," Miss Simpson answered coldly, "in moderation." Then she returned to the subject of the schools. This outspoken person must be given to understand from the commencement that, though she might pose as _grande dame_ in Moresby by reason of her residence at the Hall, the older residents would not brook interference with existing institutions. Moresby was conservative in principle, and resented innovations. "The present schools are a feature of the place," she said. "No one would care to have them done away with. They are picturesque." "Yes; they are," Mrs Chadwick admitted readily. "That is what distresses me in old places--their beauty. One hates to demolish the beautiful. But healthy children are more beautiful than old buildings; and the modern buildings, with up-to-date construction, are healthier for small people." "I think our village children are remarkably healthy," Miss Simpson protested. "Do you? Half the school, I observed, had colds. Healthy children should not be susceptible to chills. If they worked in properly ventilated rooms they would not be. The lungs of the young have immense powers of resistance, but we weaken these powers with our foolish indifference to overheating and overcrowding. It is little short of criminal to study the picturesque in preference to the well-being of the rising generation."