"Ah. In a way that is a pity. Baptism is an impressive moment in the sensitive consciousness of the infant. It has sometimes been found to be a sort of lamp shining through the haze of the early memory. Registration, owing to the non-participation of the infant, is useless in that way."
"Nan might remember how she kicked me when I short-coated her," Mrs. Hilary mused, hopefully.
Mr. Cradock flowed on. Mrs. Hilary, listened, assented, was impressed. It all sounded so simple, so wonderful, even so beautiful. But she thought once or twice, "He doesn't know Nan."
"Thank you," she said, rising to go when her hour was over. "You have made me feel so much stronger, as usual. I can't thank you enough for all you do for me. I could face none of my troubles and problems but for your help."
"That merely means," said Mr. Cradock, who always got the last word, "that your ego is at present in what is called the state of infantile dependence or tutelage. A necessary but an impermanent stage in its struggle towards the adult level of the reality-principle."
"I suppose so," Mrs. Hilary said. "Good-bye."
"He is too clever for me," she thought, as she went home. "He is often above my head." But she was used to that in the people she met.