ten dates to the men."

Dalton was not the only member of the mess who made jokes about the
knights of King Arthur's fellowship. But Maitland went on reading out
selected passages from Mallory, and there is no doubt that everyone,
even Dalton, became interested. Haddingly, the padre, made no attempt to
conceal the fact that he was profoundly influenced.

He had always been proud of his church, but had hitherto been content
to use it in the normal way for parade services on Sunday morning. The
services were undeniably popular. The men enjoyed singing hymns, and
they listened patiently to the sermons because they liked Haddingly. The
officers, who also liked Haddingly, attended the Sunday morning services
with great regularity. Dalton, though he preferred playing rag-time on
the piano, accompanied the hymns on the harmonium.

Haddingly was greatly moved by Maitland's account of the medieval
spirit. He took to spending half an hour in the church every morning
before breakfast Nobody knew what he did there. The officers, through
feelings of delicacy, never asked him questions about these new
devotions. The men, who were getting to know and like Haddingly better
and better as time went on, regarded his daily visits to the church as
proof that their padre was one who knew his job and did it thoroughly.

One morning--the mess had then been discussing medieval chivalry for
about a fortnight--Maitland read out a passage from Mallory about a
visit paid by Sir Galahad to a lonely chapel among the mountains, "where
he found nobody at all for all was desolate." Haddingly had just spent
his lonely half hour in the church of St John in the Wilderness. He
sighed. He found nobody there in the mornings, and could not help
wishing that the battalion contained a Galahad. Dalton felt that
something must be done to preserve the credit of the mess and the
dignity of English manhood. He felt sure that sentiment about desolate
chapels was an unwholesome thing. He scoffed:

"All very well for Gallipot," he said, "but----"

"Galahad," said Maitland.

"Galahad, or Gallipot, or Golly-wog," said Dalton. "If a man has a silly
name like that, it doesn't matter how you spell it. The point is that it
would be simply ridiculous to attempt that sort of thing now. Suppose,
for instance---- I put it to you, padre. Suppose you saw Maitland
mounted on one of the transport gee-gees trotting tap to that tin
cathedral of yours--on a week-day, mind! I'm no