"Have courage and faith. Pray that these may be vouchsafed to you and to all of us. Something tells me that you have both already. And if so, Fancy, it is well with you. Good-night." "Good-night, sir." CHAPTER IX PARSON'S METHODS Next day, immediately after breakfast, Sir Geoffrey summoned his two footmen and the odd man, so called because he does odd jobs in a big establishment and works harder for less pay than any other servant except, possibly, the scullery-maid. The first footman, Alfred Rockley, had married recently his cousin, Prudence, and, for the moment, the Squire regarded him as ineligible for service elsewhere. Charles, the second footman, was held by the Squire to be an oaf, sadly in need of barrack-yard discipline; the odd man had been taken from the Home Farm, and felt more at home in a barn than in the pantry. They had attended the lecture of the previous evening. Sir Geoffrey marshalled them in front of him, as he sat at his desk, and said genially: "Now, Alfred, what do you think about joining up?" The gallant fellow answered promptly: "I'm ready to enlist with Captain Pomfret, Sir Geoffrey." "So he told me, and it warmed the cockles of my heart. But you have a wife and----" "Somebody else coming, Sir Geoffrey," added a true son of Nether-Applewhite. "Yes, yes; a hint of that reached me, and I was much pleased. Babies, b'Jove, ought to command premiums nowadays. Under the circumstances, Alfred, you can go back to the pantry. Single men must march first." Alfred thanked the Autocrat, and withdrew. Charles happened to be the Squire's godson, and not a credit to his sponsor. Sir Geoffrey stared at his bovine face, now exhibiting a grin which might be seen at funerals and on all momentous occasions, a grin indicating nervousness and apprehension. If Sir Geoffrey could have looked through a very massive desk, he would have reprimanded Charles for standing on one foot and scratching his calf with the other. "What do you propose to do, Charles?" "I be thinking, Sir Gaffrey." "Good. I want my people to exercise such thought as God has given to 'em. What conclusion have you come to--hey?" "Mother don't fancy me going for a soldier." "Possibly not. But this is a case for your conscience, not for your mother's fancy." He spoke with increasing testiness. "I be thinking, Sir Gaffrey," he repeated, with a still broader grin. "Very well. Off with you! Think hard for the next twenty-four hours, and I'll see you again." "Yas, Sir Gaffrey." Charles withdrew, still grinning, and joined Alfred in the pantry, where he used encarmined language which provoked a rebuke from the middle-aged butler who had stepped into Fishpingle's shoes. Sir Geoffrey eyed the odd man. "What have you to say, my lad?" "I ain't going to the wars, I ain't." "Oh, you ain't going to the wars? Why not?" "Because I'm quite satisfied with my place, sir." "By the way, what's your name?" "William Busketts." "To be sure. Unmarried?"