THE SILVER SPOON	36*5
the conduct of that * salon '—the rise and fall of the
Governmental barometer, the catchwords and cliches of
policy; and, more valuable, impressions of personality,
of the residuary man within the Member. She watched
Michael's career, with the fostering eye of a godmother
who has given her godchild a blue morocco prayer-book,
in the hope that some day he may remember its existence.
Although a sedulous attendant at the House all through
the spring and summer, Michael had not yet opened his
mouth, and so far she had approved of his silence, while
nurturing his desire to know his own mind by listening
to his wanderings in Foggartism. If it were indeed the
only permanent cure for Unemployment, as he said, she
too was a Foggartist; common-sense assuring her that
the only real danger to Kit's future lay in that national
malady. Eliminate Unemployment, and nobody would
have time to make a fuss. But her criticisms were often
pertinent:
" My dear boy, does a country ever sacrifice the present
for the sake of the future ? " or : " Do you really think
country life is better than town life ? " or : " Can you
imagine sending Kit out of England at fourteen to some
Godforsaken end of the world ? " or: " Do you suppose
the towns will have it ? " And they roused Michael to
such persistence and fluency that she felt he would really
catch on in time—like old Sir Giles Snoreham, whom they
would soon be making a peer, because he had always
worn low-crowned hats and advocated a return to
hansom cabs. Hats, buttonholes, an eyeglass—she turned
over in her mind all such little realities as help a political
career.
" Plain glass doesn't harm the sight; and it really has
a focussing value, Michael."
" My child, it's never done my Dad a bit of good;   I