Darius. He shouldn’t get a false idea of life, you know. There is not likely to be much poetry, either good or bad, in the existence which he is destined to lead.”
“The more reason for making hay while the sun shines,” said Miss Berrith — very illogically, as I thought.
“There are ways and ways of learning to make hay,” I objected.
“Only one, however,” said she, “of learning that the sun shines. The pity of it is that a boy should need to have such things pointed out to him; but, since he must, I am very glad that I am the one to do it.”
“Yes, I know the feeling,” I agreed, “but in a sense somewhat less sentimental. I, too, have been a factor in the education of Darius. Teaching him to polish shoes is, perhaps, not a great thing on the face of it, but remember that he has been learning to understand the pleasures of industry, from the moment when I first pointed out the brush.”
