"Better hate Kin as fast as you can, then," said Chappy from the boat, "so's there'll be a chance for some of the rest of us. Why, he don't sleep in chapel more than every other Sunday." "How can he help going to sleep, poor boy?" said Miss Saucy. "Such sermons!" "Well, come now," said another cadet, "that last sermon wasn't half bad. And not more than twice as long as was necessary." "Yes, but for these times!" quoth Miss Saucy. "Why, it was just like saying 'Be good,' don't you know?" "Hard upon the times, wasn't it?" said Magnus. "Well, row on," said the Kitten with a deep sigh. "I see by his face nothing _I_ can say will do any good. But it is such a pity! I never guessed he was that sort. A new fad, isn't it?" she said in a loud aside, as the oars dipped and rose. "Good-bye, Mr. Kindred! I hope your meditations will be very profitable." "Thank you," Magnus answered, standing up again, "I think they will." He watched the boat as it went on over the dimpling water, then changed his place a little, and began on a new end of his thoughts. This girl had "never guessed he was that sort." Maybe she was only telling society fibs, but Magnus would not let himself off so. For what reason had he ever given her to think him a Christian? Where had his colours been, in all these walks and talks and meetings? Up his sleeve, in hiding? "But I cannot flaunt them in people's faces," Magnus pleaded for himself. No, and no more did the flag its stars and stripes; only waved them joyously overhead. He had been ready to say that the constant frolic with the gay crowd was not good for him, but how about his side of the influence? Had he ever tried talking sense to girls whom he condemned for talking only nonsense? "Ye are the salt of the earth," but salt refreshes, stimulates, purifies; how far had he been like that? Without being priggish, without setting up for a preacher, could he not show in every way that the service of Christ was better than all else, and the knowledge of Him the most joyful thing in all this world? "Ye are my witnesses," said the Lord Jesus; and what sort of testimony did Cadet Magnus Kindred give from day to day? No matter how other men did, what had he done? The final outcome of all these cogitations was a letter. "CAMP GOLIGHTLY, "July --, 18--. "MY DEAR MOTHER: "I don't see why you don't come East and look after your boy. How do you know what he is about here? Better come and see whether you want him home on furlough; that is, if that time ever comes, which I don't believe it will. Three, six, well nigh eight months yet before it will even be 'One hundred days to June.' Besides, they may find me in January, and then, instead of going home, I should go as straight to the Antipodes as if they'd shot me out of a catapult."