of God to man. Nothing about wrath--that's only a
back-fire--but love. Without that motor all the trimmings are junk.
Each sect has its own trimmings, but they all profess to use the same
motor. . . Still, the motor is all right, even if it is neglected and
abused. I don't think you'll find a better, and you must have power of
some kind."

"What about Socialism?" asked Dave.

"Very good, insofar as it is constructive. But there is a destructive
brand of Socialism which seizes the fancy of disappointed and
disgruntled men and women, and bids them destroy. There is a basic
quality in all human nature which clamours for destruction. You see it
in the child pulling his toys to pieces, or in the mob wrecking
buildings. Destruction is easy and passionate, but construction
demands skill and patience."

"I have been at some of their meetings," said Dave. "They lay great
stress on the war between Labour and Capital--"

"Between husband and wife in the family of production," interrupted Mr.
Duncan. "Nothing is to be gained by that quarrel. I admit the husband
has been overbearing, offensive, brutal, perhaps; but the wife has been
slovenly, inefficient, shallow. Neither has yet been brought to
realize how hopeless is the case of one without the other. And I don't
think they will learn that by quarreling. What they need is not hard
words, but mutual respect and sympathy, and an honest conception of
what constitutes success. Doctrines and policies are helpful to the
extent to which they cause men to think, either directly, or by
creating environment conducive to thought; but they will never bring
the golden age of happiness. That can come only through the
destruction of selfishness, which can be destroyed only by the power of
love. That is why I emphasized the motor, in our talk about the
church. It is our only chance."

Dave's talks with Mr. Duncan became almost nightly occurrences, either
at the Duncan home, or when he drove the family--for the master of the
house often accompanied them--or when they met down town, as frequently
happened. And the boy was not slow to realize the broad nature of the
task to which Mr. Duncan had set himself. His education was to be
built of every knowledge and experience that could go into the rounding
of a well-developed life.

The climax seemed to be reached when Mr. Duncan invited Dave to
accompany him to a dinner at which a noted thinker, just crossing the
continent,