become! We must often talk of these things, for they fill my thoughts continually. Indeed, I have planned a little dialogue, which I have begun to write, called 'The Child.' The two speakers, of course, are the father and mother, both of the class to which we belong, the class that, however much Socialists rave, creates the nation. They just sit and talk, as evening falls, over the future of their child, which so largely depends on their upbringing of it. The dialogue should begin lightly, as our dialogue began just now, and deepen till it strikes roots to the very heart of things. We shall be able to show that we, at least, realize our responsibilities. For the England of thirty years onward will be the England that we parents of to-day make it. You must help me, dear, with the writing of this. Give me the quick, vivid touches that you can so perfectly supply, and it should have an enormous circulation. The proceeds I would give to some home."
This was the best that Lucia had ever heard. She felt she must tell somebody—Madge, perhaps, who was coming that evening, and in the company of Madge even Charlie might be allowed to hear it. But there was more yet. She could not make the Archdeacon face again, for Edgar turned and looked at her.
"Well, blithe spirit?" he said.
That was inimitable, but it was also almost insupportable. She had to summon her scattered forces.
"It is too interesting," she said. "You plan it magically. Oh, Edgar, shut yourself up all afternoon, and begin. Or have you begun?"
"Ah, not without your help," he said. "You must tell me all that a mother feels; you can tell me that. And that must be instinct, underlying all the mother's part of the dialogue. I don't think the idea has ever been tried before."
They had arrived at the house.
"Never, as far as I am aware," said Lucia. And the deadliness of it all closed in round her. She was incapable of the humorous view at that moment; the tragic reality swallowed up all else.
Evening brought a few more people, coming to stay from the Friday till the Monday, but all that had hitherto stimulated Lucia seemed to have failed her. It appeared of little consequence who came and who did not; the coming and going was
