“She can’t refuse. Fortunately she hasn’t a penny. One hates to emphasize it, but my father gives her an allowance, and is, of course, undertaking the whole expense of Cecil’s education. Personally, I advise sending him to his preparatory school at once. It’s the very best chance of breaking him of this silly, vulgar habit of telling lies.”
“You think so?”
The eyeglasses described their graceful little curve once more.
“The only hope, I may say. He’ll get kicked out of it.”
“Unless he’s kicked further into it. What’s the alternative to school?”
“There isn’t one.”
“But what does his mother suggest?”
“Oh, a home education. A tutor. No doubt she visualizes him as Little Lord Fauntleroy on a pony riding about amongst the tenants. Very typical of her ideals, poor thing.”
Ford’s tone was tolerant in the extreme.
“So you are very much in favour of the public-school system of education, are you?” inquired the doctor.