Englishman who was loading the hay on the rack,
with a sudden impulse. But Arthur was wrapped in his own mask of
insular reserve, and so saw nothing of the storm that was sweeping over
the boy's soul.

Then the very spirit of evil laid hold on Tom. When the powers of good
are present in the heart, and can find no outlet in action, they turn
to evil. Tom had the desire to be kind and generous; ambition was
stirring in him. His sullenness and discontent were but the outward
signs of the inward ferment. He could not put into action the powers
for good without breaking away, in a measure at least, from his father
and mother.

He felt that he had to do something. He was hungry for the society of
other young people like himself. He wanted life and action and
excitement.

There is one place where a young man can always go and find life and
gaiety and good-fellowship. One door stands invitingly open to all.
When the church of God is cold and dark and silent, and the homes of
Christ's followers are closed except to the chosen few, the bar-room
throws out its evil welcome to the young man on the street.

Tom had never heard any argument against intemperance, only that it was
expensive. Now he hated all the petty meanness that he had been so
carefully taught.

The first evening that Tom went into the bar-room of the Millford hotel
he was given a royal welcome. They were a jolly crowd! They knew how to
enjoy life, Tom told himself. What's the good of money if you can't
have a little fun with it?

Tom had never had much money of his own, he had never needed it or
thought anything about it. Now the injustice of it rankled in him. He
had to have money. It was his. He worked for it. He would just take it,
and then if it was missed he would tell his father and mother that he
had taken it--taking your own is not stealing--and he would tell them
so and have it out with them.

Thus the enemy sowed the tares.

CHAPTER XXI

A CRACK IN THE GRANITE

While Pearl was writing her experiences in her little red book, Mr. and
Mrs. Motherwell were in the kitchen below reading a letter which Mr.
Motherwell had just brought from the post office. It read as follows:

BRANDON HOSPITAL, August 10th.

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Motherwell: I know it will be at least some slight
comfort for you to know that the poppies you sent Polly reached her in
time to be the very greatest comfort to her. Her joy at seeing them and
holding them in her han