hate the good. Surely you know that."

"Then you really are one of them missionary chaps?" and the old man
eyed Reynolds curiously.

"No, I am not," was the emphatic reply.

"But ye quote Scripter like a parson, though. I thought mebbe ye was."

"Is it necessary to be a parson to know something about the Bible?
Isn't this a Christian land? Why shouldn't I know something about the
greatest Book in the world? My mother taught it to me when I was a
child, and I learned a great deal about it when I went to Sunday
school. I did not value it so much then, but when over in France, with
death on all sides, much of it came back to me, and I honestly confess
it was a great comfort."

"An' so ye was over thar, young man? Wall, that's sartinly
interestin'. Fer how long?"

"Nearly four years. I enlisted at the beginning of the war."

"An' come through all right?"

"Look," and Reynolds bared his left arm, showing a great scar. "I have
several more on my body, some worse than that."

"Ye don't tell! My, I'm glad I've met ye. Got some medals, I s'pose."

Reynolds made no reply, as he already felt ashamed of himself for