* * * * *

“I am afraid,” said a padre to me once, “the boys are sceptical.”

“Come with me to-morrow,” I answered. “I’ll prove to you they are _not_
sceptical.”

We were half an hour ahead of time and the hut was crowded with eight
hundred men. They were singing when I got in—something about “an old
rooster—as you used to.”

Do you suppose I had no better sense than to go in and say, “Stop this
ungodly music?” You can catch more flies with treacle than with vinegar.

I looked at the boys and said, “That’s great, sing it again.”

And I turned to the padre and asked, “Isn’t that splendid? Isn’t that
fine?”

While we were waiting to begin the meeting, I said, “Boys, we must have
another.”

“One of the same sort?” they shouted.

“Of course,” was my reply. And they sang “Who’s your lady friend?” and
when they had sung that, I called out, “Boys, we will have one more. What
shall it be?”

“One of yours, sir.”