The gift of hiding private emotion and keeping up appearancesbefore strangers is not, as many suppose, entirely a product of ourmodern civilization. Centuries before we were born or thought ofthere was a widely press-agented boy in Sparta who even went so faras to let a fox gnaw his tender young stomach without permittingthe discomfort inseparable from such a proceeding to interfere witheither his facial expression or his flow of small talk. Historianshave handed it down that, even in the later stages of the meal, thepolite lad continued to be the life and soul of the party. But,while this feat may be said to have established a record neversubsequently lowered, there is no doubt that almost every day inmodern times men and women are performing similar and scarcely lessimpressive miracles of self-restraint. Of all the qualities whichbelong exclusively to Man and are not shared by the lower animals,this surely is the one which marks him off most sharply from thebeasts of the field. Animals care nothing about keeping upappearances. Observe Bertram the Bull when things are not going justas he could wish. He stamps. He snorts. He paws the ground. Hethrows back his head and bellows. He is upset, and he doesn't carewho knows it. Instances could be readily multiplied. Deposit acharge of shot in some outlying section of Thomas the Tiger, andnote the effect. Irritate Wilfred the Wasp, or stand behind Maudthe Mule and prod her with a pin. There is not an animal on thelist who has even a rudimentary sense of the social amenities; andit is this more than anything else which should make us proud thatwe are human beings on a loftier plane of development.

　　In the days which followed Lord Marshmoreton's visit to George atthe cottage, not a few of the occupants of Belpher Castle had theirmettle sternly tested in this respect; and it is a pleasure to beable to record that not one of them failed to come through theordeal with success. The general public, as represented by theuncles, cousins, and aunts who had descended on the place to helpLord Belpher celebrate his coming-of-age, had not a notion thatturmoil lurked behind the smooth fronts of at least half a dozen ofthose whom they met in the course of the daily round.

　　Lord Belpher, for example, though he limped rather painfully,showed nothing of the baffled fury which was reducing his weight atthe rate of ounces a day. His uncle Francis, the Bishop, when hetackled him in the garden on the subject of Intemperance--for UncleFrancis, like thousands of others, had taken it for granted, onreading the report of the encounter with the policeman and Percy'ssubsequent arrest, that the affair had been the result of a drunkenoutburst--had no inkling of the volcanic emotions that seethed inhis nephew's bosom. He came away from the interview, indeed,feeling that the boy had listened attentively and with a becomingregret, and that there was hope for him after all, provided that hefought the impulse. He little knew that, but for the conventions(which frown on the practice of murdering bishops), Percy wouldgladly have strangled him with his bare hands and jumped upon theremains.