been at three private schools, and they were all wretched. You know I am
thinking of trying a tutor this year."

"I want her to send him to the public schools," Mr. Clarke said with the
air of detached paternity peculiar to American fathers. "I went to the
public schools. They gave me a decent start in life; that's about all you
can expect of a school."

"True, true," said the bishop, his elbows on the arms of his chair, and
his fingers tapping each other meditatively. "I am the last person to
minimize the value of the public schools, but they were primarily
designed, Mr. Clarke, neither for your boy, nor mine. Their rules and
regulations were designed expressly for the children of the poor. I was
speaking on this subject only yesterday to Mrs. Conningsby Lee. She's
very indignant because her child was forced to submit to vaccination at
the hands of some unknown young physician appointed by the city.

"I should feel like killing any one who vaccinated Mac without my
consent!" exclaimed Mrs. Clarke, "but I needn't worry. He wouldn't allow
it. Do you know we have never been able to persuade that child to be
vaccinated?"

"And you don't propose for the State to do what you can't do, do you?"
Mr. Clarke said, pinching her cheek.

"What Mrs. Clarke says is not without weight," said the bishop, gallantly
coming to her rescue. "There are few things upon which I wax more
indignant than the increasing interference of the State with the home.
This hysterical agitation against child labor, for instance; while
warranted in exceptional cases, it is in the main destructive of the