"Humph!" returned Jack vaguely, for the figure of the old soldier saluting his Captain had made too deep an impression on his heart to be lightly discussed. "Christ, the Captain!" The idea appealed to his boyish instincts, and awoke a new ambition. Hitherto he had looked upon religion as a thing apart from his own life, the monopoly of women and clergymen, whose business it was; now for the first time it appealed to him as a fine and manly virtue. Sitting by his lonely fireside, General Digby reproached himself for his lack of influence on his new friends. He would have been a happy man if he had known that by God's grace he had that afternoon planted a seed for God in Jack Trevor's careless heart. "Christ, the Captain!" To the last day of the boy's life he never forgot those words, nor the picture of the old soldier with his hand raised to the salute. CHAPTER ELEVEN. BETTY AND CYNTHIA MEET. "Jill, do you know where my green check blouse has gone? I can't find it anywhere." "How should I know? I haven't taken it--wouldn't be seen in the horrid old thing! Why are you worrying if it has disappeared? I thought you said the other day that it was too shabby to wear any more?" "So I did, but I want the buttons to put on a new blouse. It was hanging up in my cupboard last week." "I expect it's there still, only you can't see it because it's hidden away behind your dresses. What is far more important is my umbrella. Somebody has eaten it, I believe--it's simply _gone_!" "You have left it at school again. You are always losing your umbrellas." "People steal them, I suppose, because they are so beautiful! Alpaca-- three and eleven! Mother says it's no use giving me a silk because I'm not careful. That's bad reasoning! I should be careful if I had a silk. But it's not my fault this time. I know I brought it home, because there was an apple inside it which Norah gave me in prep. I ate it last night, and this morning the brolley has vanished. It's hard lines, for I shall get a rowing if it doesn't turn up, and it isn't my fault a bit." "Oh, I expect you'll find it all right. It's so tiresome, because the buttons exactly match this blouse, and I want it for Saturday," returned Betty, too much absorbed in her own affairs to have any sympathy to spare for Jill's loss. All the week long she lived in the thought of Saturday, and when at long last the day arrived she could hardly wait until three o'clock, so anxious was she to be at her post. Mrs Vanburgh came to meet her at the door of the dining-room, looking flushed and excited. "Come in here!" she said. "We are beginning to set out the table, so you are just in time. I want to have everything ready by the half- hour."