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when Mr. Pe.nnott, the pink-faced solicitor who had
charge of our affairs, paid us one of his periodic
visits and the problem of my education was referred
to in my prcsoruv. The solicitor used to come down
from London for the clay. In acknowledgment of his
masculinity my aunt always conceded him the head
of the tabu; at hmch. J can remember him carving
a duck with evident relish, and saying in somewhat
unctuous tones, "Have you reconsidered, my dear
Miss Evelyn, the well-worn subject of a school for our
young friend on my left?"

And I can hear my aunt replying in a fluttering
voice that she had always been nervous about me
since I had pneumonia (though she knew quite well
that it was only slight inflammation of the lungs, and
more than two years ago at that). Fixing my gaze on
his fat pearl tie-pin, I wondered whether I really
should ever go to school, and what it would feel like
when I got there. Nothing was said about Mr. Star,
but Mr. Peimett usually had a private conversation
with him on the subject of my progress.

"Your guardian seems an extremely well-informed
ge,ntleman,J> Mr. Star would say to me after one of
these interviews. For Mr. Pennett had been to
Harrow, and when Mr. Star spoke of him I was
vaguely aware that he had made the modest old
man feel even more humble than usual. My aunt was
perfectly satisfied with Mr. Star, and so was I. But
the solicitor knew that I was growing out of my tutor;
and so, perhaps, did Mr. Star himself. -. . Indeed, I
was* getting to be quite a big boy for my age. People
in the village were sayingthat I was "filling out a fair
treat", and "shooting up no end"....

To one little incident I can give an exact dateónot
always an easy thing to do when one is looking back