"—And when Uncle Joseph saw you smiling—to yourself—he said that women always did that. He said they couldn't help it. It was a—a prebby—a prebby-something instinct. I can't remember the word."
"Presbyterian?" suggested Miss Falconer helpfully. "Our cook is one."
"Something like that. Yes, I believe it was that," said Philip. He was quite sure it was not, but he was anxious not to offend again. "He said it was due to a—a Presbyterian instinct. He thinks women ought to be avoided."
"Why?" asked Peggy, deeply intrigued.
"He doesn't like them," explained Philip. He spoke quite apologetically. Half an hour ago he could have set forth the doctrines of Uncle Joseph as matters of fact, not of opinion.
But Miss Falconer did not appear to be offended. She seemed rather pleased with Uncle Joseph.
"I don't like them much myself," she announced. "Except Mother, of course. I like little girls best—and then little boys." She squeezed Philip's arm in an ingratiating manner. "But why doesn't Uncle Joseph like women? They can't do anything to him! They can't stop him doing nice things! They can't send him to bed!" concluded Miss Falconer bitterly. Evidently the memory of some despotic nurse was rankling. "Did he ever tell you why?"
"Oh, yes—often."
"What does he say?"
"He says," replied Philip, getting rapidly into his stride over long-familiar ground, "that women are the disturbing and distracting force in Nature. They stray deliberately out of their own appointed sphere in order to interfere with and weaken the driving-force of the world—Man. They are a parry—parry—parry-sitic growth, sapping the life out of the strongest tree. They are subject to no standard laws, and therefore upset the natural balance of Creation. They act from reason and not instinct—no, I think it is the other way round—they act from instinct and not from reason. They have no breadth of view or sense of proportion. They argue from the particular to the general; and in all argument they habitually beg the question and shift their ground if worsted. They cannot organise or direct; they only scheme and plot. Their own overpowering instinct is the Prebby—Presbyterian instinct—the instinct of plunder—to obtain from Man the wherewithal to deck their own persons with extravagant and insanitary finery. This they do, not to gratify man, but to mortify one another. A man who would perform his life's work untravelled—no, untrammelled—must avoid women at all costs. At least," concluded Philip traitorously, "that is what Uncle Joseph says."