You soon get used to it all, and it does not make you extra happy,
although, if you had it all taken away, you would be very dejected.
(That is a good word, and one I have never used before.) You get
used to everything, as I said, and then you want something more.
Father says this is what people mean by the deceitfulness of
riches; but Albert's uncle says it is the spirit of progress, and
Mrs Leslie said some people called it 'divine discontent'. Oswald
asked them all what they thought one Sunday at dinner. Uncle said
it was rot, and what we wanted was bread and water and a licking;
but he meant it for a joke. This was in the Easter holidays.

We went to live at the Red House at Christmas. After the holidays
the girls went to the Blackheath High School, and we boys went to
the Prop. (that means the Proprietary School). And we had to swot
rather during term; but about Easter we knew the deceitfulness of
riches in the vac., when there was nothing much on, like pantomimes
and things. Then there was the summer term, and we swotted more
than ever; and it was boiling hot, and masters' tempers got short
and sharp, and the girls used to wish the exams came in cold
weather. I can't think why they don't. But I suppose schools
don't think of sensible thinks like that. They teach botany at
girls' schools.

Then the Midsummer holidays came, and we breathed again--but only
for a few days. We began to feel as if we had forgotten something,
and did not know what it was. We wanted something to happen--only
we didn't exactly know what. So we were very pleased when Father
said--

'I've asked Mr Foulkes to send his children here for a week or two.