“Now we mustn't be afraid of him, just because he seems to be intelligent,” declared our hostess. This sally was greeted with spasmodic laughter. Her eyes flitted from bench to bench, yet met nothing save averted glances. “Jock! Where are you, Jock? Why don't you speak up?--you've never been downed before.” More laughter, and craning of necks for the Jocks. This appeared to be her generic name for the vita. But the Jocks remained obdurately modest. The prolonged silence did not seem in the least painful to the lecturer, who thrust his hand in his pocket and continued to beam. He had learned how to wait. And at last his patience was rewarded. A middleaged soldier with a very serious manner arose hesitatingly, with encouraging noises from his comrades. “It's not Mr. Lloyd George I'm worrying about, sir,” he said, “all I wants is enough for the missus and me. I had trouble to get that before the war.” Cries of “Hear! Hear!” “Why did you have trouble?” inquired the lecturer mildly. “The wages was too low.” “And why were the wages too low?” “You've got me there. I hadn't thought.” “But isn't it your business as a voter to think?” asked the lecturer. “That's why the government is sending me here, to start you to thinking, to remind you that it is you soldiers who will have to take charge of this country and run it after the war is over. And you won't be able to do that unless you think, and think straight.” “We've never been taught to think,” was the illuminating reply. “And if we do think we've never been educated to express ourselves, same as you!” shouted another man, in whom excitement had overcome timidity. “I'm here to help you educate yourselves,” said the lecturer. “But first let's hear any ideas you may have on the question I asked you.”