ble
till the five minutes were over, then he said timidly, 'I wouldn't hate
a brother. I'd like to have one. Do you think it means the same when
it's a girl?'

'Precisely the same--a brother means any person in the world, man, woman,
or child.'

'Then I ought to be hung.'

There was much self-pity in Teddy's tone. Mr. Upton did not smile, he was
gazing abstractedly out of the window, and said slowly, 'The root of
murder is anger. The same motive that prompts a passionate statement,
prompts a passionate and perhaps fatal blow.'

There was silence; then in a more cheerful tone the rector turned to the
little culprit.

'And now tell me the whole story, and who it was that you spoke to
in church.'

Teddy was perfectly ready with his defence, and he poured into his
listener's ears such a voluble story that the rector was quite bewildered
when it came to an end. 'It's father's button I care about,' added the
boy, fingering his beloved object proudly, 'and she didn't believe me a
bit, and she put out her tongue as long as ever she could!'

'Tell me the story of the button; I have heard, but have forgotten
the details.'

Teddy's eyes sparkled, and his little head was raised erect again.
Slipping off his chair, he stood in front of the rector, and told the
oft-repeated tale with dramatic force and effect. Mr. Upton listened with
interest, but before he could offer any comment on it tea was announced,
and taking the child by the hand he marched him into the dining-room.

Hot tea-cakes, strawberry jam, and plum cake kept our little friend fully
occupied for some time. He wondered if all the naughty boys interviewed
by the rector had been treated to the same fare, and he began to think an
invitation to Sunday tea at the rectory highly desirable.

'And now,' said Mr. Upton, towards the end of the meal, 'I want some more
talk with you. Your father was a brave soldier; he died in saving the
colours. You want to grow up like him, do you not?'

'Yes, sir, indeed I do.'

'There is a little verse in God's Word that describes our Lord's
banner--His colours. Will you say it after me?--"His banner over me was
love."' Teddy repeated the verse slowly, and with interest.

'It is a wonderful banner,' pursued Mr. Upton thoughtfully, 'the enemy
confronted with it on every side. In the thick of the fight we can but
hoist our colours, "Love." God's love to man, when man is fighting from
his infancy against his Maker. What host would