He was an extremely conscientious young man--this Mr. Parham-Carter--an old Etonian, of course, and now in his first curacy. It was all pretty bewildering to him, too, this great and splendid establishment, the glorious church by Bodley, with the Magnificat in Gothic lettering below the roof, the well-built and furnished clergy-house, the ladies' house, the zeal, the self-devotion, the parochial machinery, the Band of Hope, the men's and boys' clubs, and, above all, the furious district-visiting. Of course, it produced results, it kept up the standards of decency and civilization and ideals; it was a weight in the balances on the side of right and good living; the clubs kept men from the public-house to some extent, and made it possible for boys to grow up with some chance on their side. Yet he wondered, in fits of despondency, whether there were not something wrong somewhere.... But he accepted it: it was the approved method, and he himself was a learner, not a teacher. "Very kind of you, sir," said the Major, replacing his feet on the mantelshelf. "And at what time are the services on Sunday?" The clergyman jumped. He was not accustomed to that sort of question. "I ..." he began. "I'm a strong Churchman, sir," said the Major. "And even if I were not, one must set an example, you know. I may be narrow-minded, but I'm particular about all that sort of thing. I shall be with you on Sunday." He nodded reassuringly at Mr. Parham-Carter. "Well, we have morning prayer at ten-thirty next Sunday, and the Holy Eucharist at eleven--and, of course, at eight." "No vestments, I hope?" said the Major sternly. Mr. Parham-Carter faltered a little. Vestments were not in use, but to his regret. "Well, we don't use vestments," he said, "but--" The Major resumed his pipe with a satisfied air. "That's all right," he said. "Now, I'm not bigoted--my friend here's a Roman Catholic, but--" The clergyman looked up sharply, and for the first time became consciously conscious of the second man. Frank had sat back again on the bed, with Jimmie beside him, and was watching the little scene quietly and silently, and the clergyman met his eyes full. Some vague shock thrilled through him; Frank's clean-shaven brown face seemed somehow familiar--or was it something else? Mr. Parham-Carter considered the point for a little while in silence, only half attending to the Major, who was now announcing his views on the Establishment and the Reformation settlement. Frank said nothing at all, and there grew on the clergyman a desire to hear his voice. He made an opportunity at last. "Yes, I see," he said to the Major; "and you--I don't know your name?" "Gregory, sir," said Frank. And again a little shock thrilled Mr. Parham-Carter. The voice was the kind of thing he had expected from that face. * * * * *