In Darentdale those who were joined together in Christian love and helpfulness had instituted a communion service which was for their mutual comfort and edification. It was held usually in the house of the clergyman, but although many church people attended, the number of Nonconformists was still larger. They did not call it a sacrament, but “a breaking of bread together,” and “all who loved the Lord Jesus in sincerity” were invited to be present. A few evenings after the boy’s question to Mr. Harris the friends were together as usual. The door of the Vicarage was open, and they were singing a hymn of praise, the sound of which floated through the garden, and reached the high road. Along the road Mr. Harris was walking, and he stopped at the gate to listen. Then he went noiselessly to the room where the meeting was held, and took his seat at the door. Of course he was at once recognised. After the hymn was sung a chapter was read, prayer was offered by any who wished to pray, and the chairman asked any friend who could to speak. Mr. Harris rose and said a few words, which came from his heart, and went to the hearts of others. He told them that he had not been quite sincere in his profession of lack of faith in Christianity, that he had believed always in Christ, but only lately in Christians. He said that he had long ago put his trust in Jesus as the living Saviour, and could say, “I know in whom I have believed”—although he had not thought it necessary to join any part of the Church. “But now,” he said, “I have a great hunger for the communion of saints! Unworthy as I feel myself, yet, because I love our Lord, I ask you to let me join you in this service. Will you receive me as one of yourselves? I love my Master, and I love His brethren, and I crave your prayers and your help. I want to be taught and strengthened. Let me take the lowest place among you, but do not shut me out, for I believe that Jesus is the Christ, and that He loved me, and gave Himself for me.” His voice grew rather unsteady—perhaps it was because he saw Margaret weeping—and he resumed his seat. But the little company stood, and with one accord they sang, Praise God from whom all blessings flow. CHAPTER XXVI. “HIS OWN WAY.” The reason why Mr. Samuel Smart spent that short holiday in Darentdale became apparent a few weeks afterward when Margaret Miller received a letter. The letter was as follows:— “DEAR MISS MILLER,—Pardon the presumption of an old man, who is a stranger to you. I knew Captain Dallington, and I once saw you when you were a little child of three, and since then I have heard of you, and of the great host of Young Crusaders who, in all parts of the country, are learning to be good citizens because they are trying to be good Christians.