some one out there--in another heart-to-heart talk. As a matter
of fact, I think I said it myself. It's odd you should have used the
same words. Anyhow, you're the only other person who has hit on the
truth as far as I'm concerned. Finding one's soul is a bit
high-falutin--but that's about the size of it."

"Peggy hasn't hit on the truth, then?" Oliver asked, with curious
earnestness, the shade of mockery gone.

"The war has scarcely touched her yet, you see," said Doggie. He rose,
shrinking from discussion. "Shall we go in?"

In the drawing-room they played bridge till the ladies' bedtime. The
Dean coming in, played the last rubber.

"I hope you'll be able to sleep in a common or garden bed, Marmaduke,"
said Peggy, and kissed him a perfunctory good night.

"I have heard," remarked the Dean, "that it takes quite a time to grow
accustomed to the little amenities of civilization."

"That's quite true, Uncle Edward," laughed Doggie. "I'm terrified at
the thought of the silk pyjamas Peddle has prescribed for me."

"Why?" Peggy asked bluntly.

Oliver interposed laughing, his hand on Doggie's shoulder.

"Tommy's accustomed to go to bed in his day-shirt."

"How perfectly disgusting!" cried Peggy, and swept from the room.

Oliver dropped his hand and looked somewhat abashed.

"I'm afraid I've been and gone and done it. I'm sorry. I'm still a
barbarian South Sea Islander."

"I wish I were a young man," said the Dean, moving from the door and
inviting them to sit, "and could take part in these strange hardships.
This question of night attire, for instance, has never struck me
before. The whole thing is of amazing interest. Ah! what it is to be
old! If I were young, I should be with you, cloth or no cloth, in the
trenches. I hope both of you know that I vehemently dissent from those
bishops who prohibit the younger clergy from taking their place in the
fighting line. If God's archangels and angels themselves took up the
sword against the Powers of Darkness, surely a stalwart young curate
of the Church of England would find his vocation in warring with rifle
and bayonet against the proclaimed enemies of God and mankind?"

"The influence of the twenty thousand or so of priests fighting in the
French Army is said to be enormous," Oliver remarked.

The Dean sighed. "I'm afraid we're losing a big chance."

"Why don't you take up the Fiery Cross, Uncle Edward, and run a new
Crusade?"

The Dean sighed. Five-and-thirt