"Think a moment of what the Captain of your salvation did for you--when the suffering of Calvary had to be endured, and the agony of the cross lay before Him. It says, speaking of Him, He set His face like a flint. He could have escaped that last journey to Jerusalem, have gone back to the glory of His Heavenly Father's home, but for your sake He chose to suffer and to die. Bob, His message to you at this moment seems to me to be some words I read in His Book this morning: 'Endure hardness as a good soldier of Jesus Christ.' The Holy Spirit, Who filled the heart and life of the Saviour, can come upon you, and make you brave and strong. Ask Him now." Pressing the boy's hand, Margaret moved a little away, and as she gazed upwards to the blue sky gleaming through the branches overhead, she lifted up a silent petition to the great Friend of all mankind. Her own burden lightened as she laid that of another pilgrim at the feet of Christ. Her thoughts were disturbed by Bob's voice in her ears: "Let's go now, Miss Woodford, and get it over." "Yes, it's late," she answered, neither looking at the boy's face, nor appearing conscious of an apparent change of atmosphere from the excitement of distress to normality. But the quiet, even tones of the boy's voice gave her confidence. It did not take long to reach home; lunch was just being laid. James paused in astonishment as he saw the two enter the hall, but a look from Margaret silenced the words on his lips. "Where is Mr. Medhurst?" she asked, in a brisk voice. "In the library, miss," answered James, and moved on to his duties in the dining-room. "Come, let's find him," she said, turning to Bob. "You need not come," he muttered. "I would like to, if I may?" she asked. No more was said, and the two entered the room together. "Bob wants to speak to you, Mr. Medhurst," she said, by way of explanation, and then moved to the window, leaving the boy facing his father. She caught the quick look of surprise deepening into a swift survey of the boy's form as if to ascertain if there had been an accident and he was unhurt. Margaret realised the unspoken anxiety, although it was but momentary. The man was evidently not indifferent to his son's welfare. That cursory glance gave her hope, but even she was scarcely prepared for the sudden change of aspect which now swept over him, his countenance visibly darkening as he said: "What do you want?" and the icy coldness was enough to estrange any young heart anxious to unburden itself. A shiver ran down the boy's back as he heard it, for a moment his courage failed, and he stood staring at the stern face in front of him, his own white with the tensity of the moment. Then he pulled himself together, "Endure hardness as a good soldier"--the words rushed to his brain. He raised his head a little more as if to cast away fear with disdain, then, taking out of his pocket the Headmaster's note, he handed it to his father.