Fishpingle glanced from the beaming face of the Squire to the demure Prudence standing at attention between them. The light from the big window fell full upon her trim, graciously rounded figure. Here, indeed, was the concrete presentment of what eugenics might achieve. A faint smile flickered about his lips; his eyes softened. As a matter of fact, Prudence was not his niece, but a cousin, a first cousin once removed. But he gazed at her with the proud and affectionate glance of a father. Then he said slowly:
“Eugenics, Prudence, is the new science which deals with conditions which make for the improvement of the human race.”
The Squire nodded complacently.
“Couldn’t have put it better myself b’ Jove!”
Fishpingle bowed.
“That is exactly what you said last night, Sir Geoffrey, to her ladyship.”
“So I did—so I did. But my lady failed to understand me.”
“I don’t understand neither,” murmured Prudence.
“Have another go, Ben,” the Squire enjoined.
Fishpingle took his time, choosing his words carefully.