see the end of my teetotal ways, I'm thinking.'

'And won't my Captain help you?'

'I'm not a hand at prayers and psalm-singing.'

'I wish you'd talk to Mr. Upton; he made me enlist a short time ago, and
I've been ever so much happier since I did it.'

They were walking across the field leading to the farm, and as they came
to the stile the soldier leant heavily on it. Turning his face full on
the child, he said determinedly, 'I'm not a-goin' to talk to any Mr.
Upton or no one about it. I'd as lief hear you as a parson. You mind me
of a little brother of mine that died ten years ago. "Tim," he said,
just afore he went, "Tim, will you meet me in heaven?" He was the only
one I ever loved, and I've lived a dog's life since!'

His eyes were moist with feeling, and for a minute Teddy looked at him
silently in pitying wonder. Then he said, 'Look here, Bouncer, this is
what Mr. Upton said to me. He told me Jesus had died for me, and how
dared I keep from being His soldier when He loved me so? You know that,
don't you?'

'Ay, so Saxby tells me; but it don't make no difference.'

'No more it didn't to me,' continued the boy eagerly, 'until I went to
God and enlisted. I did it quite by myself in the wood. You do it too,
Bouncer--you give yourself to God as His soldier, and He'll take you and
keep you.'

'I've been too bad; it keeps me wakeful at nights, the very
thinkin' of it!'

'But won't God forgive you if you ask Him to?'

'Saxby says so; but I don't know. The fact is, a soldier can't be a
Christian in the Army.'

'I don't believe you want to be one of God's soldiers,' said Teddy in a
disappointed tone; 'you keep making 'scuses!'

There was silence; then Tim Stokes heaved a heavy sigh.

'I won't come no further, youngster; I ain't in a mind to-day to see
company, but I'll be at the tea to-night.'

'Oh, Bouncer, do come!' and Teddy's eyes filled with tears. 'You promised
you would. I do want you to see mother and granny!'

But Tim wheeled round and strode off with something like a sob in his
throat. Teddy had little idea of the mighty conflict in his breast. The
child's words had awakened many memories, and Tim was at that stage now
when the powers of good and of evil were contending for his soul.

'He don't believe I want it, for I keep making excuses!' muttered the
poor man. 'Ay, I do; but I haven't got over the longing to be different.
I'd cut off my right hand, I do believe, if I could be as Saxby is.