affair which had missed fire. How, they didn't know. But there it
was; a number of their comrades had been killed, and many more had been
wounded. Still it was what they had come to the Front for. Many of
their attacks had failed, and no one seemed to know why.

As may be imagined, Tom thought a great deal about it. He knew by the
Colonel's questions, and by the tone of his voice, that the affair was
regarded as serious. Tom, although not brilliant, had a good deal of
common sense. He was able to put two and two together, and his
Lancashire gumption led him to see further than many gave him credit
for. He kept his own counsel, but he had become alert to the
finger-tips.

Altogether that night was the most wonderful in Tom's history. In a
way he could not understand, it formed an epoch in his life; it
affected him in many ways. From that time he felt the reality of God.
It was not an impression which came to him for a moment and then passed
away, it was something which became permanent. God was a personal
Power ever present with him. He was not simply some great Eternal
Abstraction, but He was a great loving Father, revealed through Jesus
Christ His Son. All the teaching he had received in the Sunday School,
all the addresses he had heard at the Y.M.C.A. huts, came back to him.
He formulated no theories, he tried to shape no creeds, but there
seemed to be a Spiritual Deposit in his life to which he had hitherto
been a stranger. He was a child of the Great Eternal Father, and Jesus
Christ had told him what that Father was like. He said nothing about
it to any one, it was not something to talk about. To Tom it was very
real, and in a vital sense the knowledge made him a new man; a new life
pulsated through his being. What it was he could not tell, did not
even care. But it was there. Indeed he had a greater love for his
life than ever, but he was no longer afraid.

It was not until two days later that Tom received news that Alec
McPhail was among the wounded and had been removed to a hospital some
little distance from Ypres, on the road leading to Cassel. He had seen
but little of McPhail since he had come to France, as the Scotchman's
battalion of the Black Watch occupied the trench some three miles from
where the Lancashires were situated. They had met occasionally near
Ypres, but had had little to say to each other. When Tom heard he was
wounded, however, he determined to go and see him.

"He