“Oh, very. I’ve not a word to say against that. The maternal instinct in women and animals is generally in inverse ratio to the intellectual development. But we’re having this difficulty with her on that very account. She raves, as she did to-night, about his temperament requiring a home education and special supervision—but in reality it’s simply class-prejudice. She dreads sending him to acquire a veneer that she knows she doesn’t possess herself—it will separate them. It’s instinctive, of course.”
He shrugged his shoulders, as though dismissing a competently analyzed problem.
“That be damned for a tale,” said the doctor curtly. “You won’t make me believe that—and, what’s more, you won’t make yourself believe it. She was in dead earnest to-night, and whether her view is right or wrong, she’s sincere. She does believe that child to be unfitted for school-life, and there’s a considerable chance that her view may be the right one. I tell you professionally that you’ll be taking a big risk if you disregard it.”
The doctor, under lowered brows, looked full at Ford, but Ford, as usual, was looking down.
Presently he made a low sound like a laugh, that was nevertheless singularly devoid of amusement.
“A storm in a tea-cup, isn’t it? Children have been known to tell fibs before now. Rose may, as you say, be in earnest, but surely that is only one proof the more of her utter lack of balance. If Cecil’s life were at stake, her tragedy-queen airs might be justifiable—but then Cecil’s life is not at stake.”
“I wonder,” said the doctor.
VII
Of the forces arrayed against Rose—and she found them many—the most potent was the strong desire for school that they had implanted in little Cecil himself.
He was always begging to go to Hurst.