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"Just comes back," she continued, "and says that it won't do; that he simply can't bear it, and relies on me to have sufficient understanding to refrain from trying to make him return. I know it sounds like a weak indulgent parent, feeble and foolish, on the one hand, and the spoilt head-strong and uncontrolled child on the other; but Anthony's not that, and whatever I may be, I can assure you that his father is not weak and indulgent; neither feeble nor foolish... Anyhow, you'll see."

Yes, thought I, in my wisdom, I shall see. The spoilt brat who'll give endless trouble and completely ruin my enjoyment of what should be a delightful job.

And for the rest of the drive from Calderton Station to Calderton House, Anthony's mother did her best to place me au courant with the unusual state of affairs, and the ways and nature of what was evidently going to prove a very unusual pupil.

I smile as I look back upon my preconceived ideas.

* * * * *

My first view of Calderton House, in its glorious and almost unique setting, was breath-taking.