It had been hard for Harry, when his father's business called him
to England, to give up a all the friendships and associations of
his boyhood. Had been hard to leave school; to tear up, by the
roots, all the things that bound him to his home. But as a scout
he had learned to be loyal and obedient. His parents had talked
things over with him very frankly. They had understood just how
hard it would be for him to go with them. But his father had made
him see how necessary it was.

"I want you to be near your mother and myself just now,
especially, Harry," he had said. "I want you to grow up where I
can see you. And, more-over, it won't hurt you a bit to know
something about other countries. You'll have a new idea of
America when you have seen other lands, and I believe you'll be a
better American for it. You'll learn that other countries have
their virtues, and that we can learn some things from them. But I
believe you'll learn, too, to love America better than ever. When
we go home you'll be broader and better for your experience."

And Harry was finding out that his father had been right. At
first he had to put up with a good deal. He found that the
English boys he met in school felt themselves a little superior.
They didn't look down on him, exactly, but they were, perhaps
the least bit sorry for him because he was not an Englishman,
always a real misfortune in their sight.

He had resented that at first. But his Boy Scout training stood
him in good stead. He kept his temper, and it was not long before
he began to make friends. He excelled at games; even the English
games that were new and strange to him presented few difficulties