"Why, I felt this morning as if I would give anything to go in for medicine, with a view to going abroad; but I know father has set his heart on my taking orders." "If I remember rightly, the preacher distinctly observed that the service was not to be one of picking and choosing but a case of ’whatsoever.’" Something unusual about the tone in which Roger made this remark, and a total absence of his usual cynicism, made his friend glance curiously at him, and he realised that a change, undefinable at present, but nevertheless unmistakable, had taken place in Roger Franklyn. "I say, old chap, I wish with all my heart _you_ would be a ’Whatsoever Christian,’" he said impulsively. "With God’s help I mean to be," was the unexpected reply, as Roger lifted his hat, and glanced upward, as if registering a vow. "Thank God!" was Marcus’ low but fervent response, as he gripped his friend’s hand with such force as to make him wince. "I knew you would be glad," was the quiet reply, "and so will my dearest mother; she has been praying a long time for her eldest boy, and he has been very obstinate. But I shall need all your prayers, now, for already I foresee trouble and disappointment looming in the distance. The pater is expecting me to follow in his footsteps when I leave St. Adrian’s, but I--oh! Drury, I am sure those words were meant for me this morning. There was probably not another medical student in the church, and I felt called to offer myself to Him for foreign service, if He will accept me." "You need not doubt His acceptance, old fellow. When we give what God asks for, you may be very sure He takes it. How glad Herschel will be!" "Who is Herschel?" ask Roger quickly. "Why, this morning’s preacher. Did not you hear father talking about him last night? No? Oh, then I must tell you. He is staying down here with his mother and a sister, I believe, and father met him yesterday, some time. Leslie Herschel’s father (the late Dean of Balmore) and he were great friends, so he was awfully glad to come across him, and asked him, straight off, to preach this morning. He has had a curacy in some huge mining town, but he is going out to the Soudan this autumn." "It’s marvellous how God makes things fit in," remarked young Franklyn, with rather an embarrassed laugh; it was such a new thing for _him_ to be talking in that strain. "I suppose, humanly speaking, Mr. Drury might have preached a hundred sermons and they would never have touched me; but just this one, from an utter stranger, _did_. And if he had been here either last Sunday, or next, instead of to-day, I should not have heard it!" "There is a little chorus we undergrads sing sometimes, before we begin our Open-Airs, in Cambridge," said Marcus, "which runs thus-- ’I believe God answers prayer. I am sure God answers prayer. I have proved God answers prayer. Glory to His name.’"