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who arrived every morning, taught me a limited
supply of Latin, and bowled lobs to me on the lawn.
His name (which I have not thought of for I don't
know how many years) was Mr. Star.

Apart from my aunt's efforts to bring me up nicely,
my early education was exclusively controlled by
Mr. Star and Dixon, who supplemented Mr. Star's
lobs with his more intimidating overarm bowling,
and never lost sight of his intention to make a sports-
man of me. For the vaguely apologetic old tutor in
his black tail-coat I felt a tolerant affection. But it
was Dixon who taught me to ride, and my admira-
tion for him was unqualified. And since he was what
I afterwards learnt to call "a perfect gentleman's
servant", he never allowed me to forget my position
as "a little gentleman": he always knew exactly when
to become discreetly respectfuL In fact, he "knew
his place".

I have said that my childhood was not altogether a
happy one. This must have been caused by the ab-
sence of companions of my own age. My Aunt Evelyn
—who was full of common sense and liked .people
(children included) to be practical in their habits and
behaviour—used to complain to Mr. Star that I was
too fond of mooning aimlessly about by myself. On
my eighth birthday she gave me a butterfly-net and a
fretwork saw, but these suggestions were unfruitful.
Now and again she took me to a children's party
given by one of the local gentry: at such functions I
was awkward and uncomfortable, and something
usually happened which increased my sense of in-
feriority to the other children, who were better at
everything than I was and made no attempt to assist
me out of my shyness. I had no friends of my own
age. I was strictly forbidden to "associate" with the