as real
as I am."

"There is no doubt of that," said his wife quickly.

"Not only as real, but quite as dear; indeed, dearer. I shall never
forget the shock I received when I heard him one day, as a wee, wee boy,
classifying the objects of his affection. I remember the ascending scale
was: 'I love Jack and Daddy just the same, then mother, then Jesus.' It
was always in the highest place, Jesus; and I believe that the scale is
the same to-day, unless Jack," she added, with a smile at her son, "has
moved to his mother's place."

"Not much fear of that, mother," said Jack, "but I should not be
surprised if you are quite right about the little chap. He is a queer
little beggar!"

"There you are again, Jack," said his father, "and it is upon that point
I was inclined to take issue with you when your mother entered."

"I think I shall leave you," said the mother. "I am rather tired, and so
I shall bid you good-night."

"Yes," said the father, when they had seated themselves again, "the
very fact that to you, and to me for that matter, Rob's attitude of
mind should seem peculiar raises the issue. What is the normal type of
Christian faith? Is it not marked by the simplicity and completeness of
the child's?"

"And yet, Sir," replied Jack, "that simplicity and completeness is the
result of inexperience. Surely the ideal faith is not that which ignores
the facts and experiences of life?"

"Not exactly," replied his father, "yet I am not sure but after all,
'the perfect love which casteth out fear' is one which ignores the
experiences of life, or, rather, classifies them in a larger category.
That is, it refuses to be disturbed by life's experiences, because among
those experiences there is a place for the enlarged horizon, the clearer
vision. But I am not arguing about this matter; I rather wish to make
a confession and enlist your aid. Frankly, the boy's words gave me an
uneasy sense of failure in my duty to this young man; or, perhaps I
should say, my privilege. And really, it is no wonder! Here is this
little chap actually carrying every day a load of intense concern for
our friend, as to whether, as he puts it himself, 'he has come back.'
And, after all, Jack, I wonder if this should not have been more upon
our minds? The young man, I take it, since his mother's death has little
in his home life to inspire him with religious faith and feeling. If she
had been alive, one would not feel the same responsibility; she w