er I should have to renounce my
Christianity--at least that is how it seems, to me. If I went to a
recruiting station I should have to go there over Calvary; that is the
whole trouble."

Mrs. Nancarrow sighed.

"Think, mother," went on Bob, and again he looked towards his father's
picture. "Do you believe he would have me go?"

"Why are you going to Oxford?" she asked.

"I want to see my father's old friend Renthall."

"And get strengthened in your Quaker opinions, I suppose?"

"I have heard nothing about them lately, at all events," said Bob, and
his voice became almost bitter. "It would seem as though we had
accepted a new Gospel which has taken the place of the New Testament.
Big guns are believed in rather than the Cross. But there is no use
talking any more. Good night."

The following morning Bob made his way to the little station at St. Ia
in order to catch an early train for London. When he arrived there he
saw that it was the scene of unusual excitement. A great crowd of
people had gathered, many of whom evidently had no intention of
travelling by train. A few minutes later he saw the reason for this.
Admiral Tresize's motor-car was driving up, containing not only the
Admiral himself, but Captain Trevanion and Nancy. No sooner did the
people see them, than there was a wild shout. Evidently the Captain,
since the meeting, had become a kind of hero, and the fact that he was
starting for the front added fresh lustre to his name.

"We'll see you back again by Christmas," some one shouted. "The
Germans will be licked by that time, and you will be a Colonel at
least. Oh, we don't fear for you--you will be all right."

"It was a fine speech you gave, Trevanion," said another. "By George,
that idea of giving a white feather to all the shirkers was just fine.
I hear that the basket is nearly empty."

"I am afraid I cannot claim the credit for that," laughed the Captain.

"Who suggested it, then?"

"Oh, it was Miss Tresize here. She thinks it such a disgrace for any
man to shirk at such a time as this, that she thought they should be
shamed to some sense of decency and pluck."

"Three cheers for Miss Tresize!" shouted some one, and a minute later,
Nancy, half-angry and half-pleased, was blushing at the shouts of her
friends.

Bob felt himself to be a complete outsider. He too was going by that
train, but no one thought of cheering him--indeed, no one spoke to him.
He was what the people c