The two men thoroughly enjoyed their spars. And the battle was well matched: for the soldier of the Old Army and the soldier of the New were both scholars, well-read, logical, and fair-minded. On one of his visits the Colonel found Ernie Caspar in the engineer's room standing before the book-shelf, handling the books. Ernie showed himself a little shame-faced in the presence of his old Commanding Officer. "How do they compare to your father's, Caspar?" asked the Colonel, innocently unaware of the other's _mauvaise honte_ and the cause of it. "Dad's got ne'er a book now, sir," Ernie answered gruffly. "Only just the Bible, and Wordsworth, and Troward's Lectures. Not as he'd ever anythink like this--only Carpenter. See, dad's not an economist. More of a philosopher and poet like." "I wish they were mine," said the Colonel, turning over Zimmeni's _Greek Commonwealth_. "They're all right if so be you can afford em," answered Ernie shortly, almost sourly. "Books are better'n beer, Ernie," said Joe Burt, a thought maliciously; and added with the little touch of priggishness that is rarely absent from those who have acquired knowledge comparatively late in life--"They're the bread of life and source of power." "Maybe," retorted Ernie with a snort; "but they aren't the equal of wife and children, I'll lay." He left the room surlily. Burt grinned at the Colonel. "Ern's one o the much-married uns," he said. "D'you know his wife?" the Colonel asked. Joe shook his bull-head. "Nay," he said. "And don't wish to." "She's a fine woman all the same," replied the Colonel. "Happen so," the other answered. "All the more reason a should avoid her. They canna thole me, the women canna. And A don't blame em." "Why can't they thole you?" asked the Colonel curiously. "Most Labour leaders rise to power at the expense of their wives," the other explained. "They go on; but the wives stay where they are--at the wash-tub. The women see that; and they don't like it. And they're right." "What's the remedy?" "There's nobbut one." Joe now not seldom honoured the Colonel by relapsing into dialect when addressing him. "And that's for the Labour leader to remain unmarried. They're the priests of Democracy--or should be." "You'll never make a Labour leader out of Caspar," said the Colonel genially. "I've tried to make an N.C.O. of him before now and failed." "A'm none so sure," Joe said, and added with genuine concern: "He's on the wobble. Might go up; might go down. Anything might happen to yon lad now. He's just the age. But he's one o ma best pupils--if he'll nobbut work." "Ah," said the Colonel with interest. "So he's joined your class at St. Andrew's Hall, has he?" "Yes," replied the other. "Mr. Chislehurst brought him along--the new curate in Old Town. D'ye know him?" "He's my cousin," replied the Colonel. "I got him here. He'd been overworking in Bermondsey--in connection with the Oxford Bermondsey Mission."