m what it was when you and I were in Egypt and India. But that's a
long time ago, old friend."

"Rouen, eh? Now, that's a coincidence. A young chap I know has just gone
there, in your department. Graham--Peter Graham. Remember him?"

"Oh, quite well. A very decent chap, I thought. Joined us ten days ago or
so. What about it? I forget for the moment where we put him."

"Oh, nothing, nothing. He'll find his feet all right. But what's this
about no parade services these days?"

"No parade services? We have 'em all right, when we can. Of course, it
depends a bit on the O.C., and in the Labour Corps especially it isn't
usually possible. It isn't like the line, old fellow, and even the line
isn't what we knew it. You can't have parade services in trenches, and
you can't have them much when the men are off-loading bully beef or
mending aeroplanes and that sort of thing. This war's a big proposition,
and it's got to go on. Why? Young Graham grousing?"

"No, no--oh, no," hastily asserted Doyle, the soul of honour. "No, not at
all. Only mentioned not getting a parade, and it seemed to me a pity.
There's a lot in the good old established religion."

"Is there?" said the other thoughtfully. "I'm not so sure to-day. The men
don't like being ordered to pray. They prefer to come voluntarily."

Doyle got fierce. "Don't like being ordered, don't they? Then what the
deuce are they there for? Good Lord, man! the Army isn't a debating
society or a mothers' meeting. You might as well have voluntary games
at a public school!"

The A.C.G. smiled. "That's it, old headstrong! No, my boy, the Army isn't
a mothers' meeting--at any rate, Fritz doesn't think so. But times have
changed, and in some ways they're better. I'd sooner have fifty men at a
voluntary service than two hundred on a parade."

"Well, I wouldn't," exploded Doyle. "I know your voluntary
services--Moody and Sankey hymns on a Sunday night. The men had better
be in a decent bar. But turn 'em out in the morning, clean and decent
on parade, and give 'em the old service, and it'll tighten 'em up and
do 'em good. Voluntary service! You'll have volunteer evangelists
instead of Army chaplains next!"

Colonel Chichester still smiled, but a little grimly. "We've got them,"
he said. "And no doubt there's something in what you say; but times
change, and the Church has got to keep abreast of the times. But, look
here, I must go. What about a luncheon? I've not got much leave."

"So