her kind; they did not, mostly,
believe it to be their business; quite sincerely and honestly they
thought it would be wrong for them, though right for laymen, to
undertake combatant service.

Anyhow, as to height, Frank knew himself to be of a height acceptable in
benefices, and that was something. Besides, it was his own height.

'Sorry I can't change to oblige you, old man,' he said. 'Or desert my
post and pretend to be a layman. I am a man under authority, like you. I
wish the powers that be would send me out there, but it's for them to
judge, and if they think I should be of less use as a padre than all the
Toms, Dicks, and Harrys they are sending, it's not for me to protest.
They may be right. I may be absolutely useless as a chaplain. On the
other hand, I may not. They apparently don't intend to give themselves a
chance of finding out. Very well. It's nothing to me, either way.'

'Oh, that's all right then,' Johnny said.

4

No one could say that the Potter press did not rise to the great
opportunity. The press seldom fails to do this. The Potter press
surpassed itself; it nearly surpassed its great rival presses. With
energy and whole-heartedness it cheered, comforted, and stimulated the
people. It never failed to say how well the Allies were getting on, how
much ammunition they had, how many men, what indomitable tenacity and
cheerful spirits enlivened the trenches. The correspondents it employed
wrote home rejoicing; its leading articles were noble hymns of praise. In
times of darkness and travail one cannot but be glad of such a press as
this. So glad were the Government of it that Mr. Potter became, at the
end of 1916, Lord Pinkerton, and his press the Pinkerton press. Of
course, that was not the only reward he obtained for his services; he
figured every new year in the honours' list, and collected in succession
most of the letters of the alphabet after his name. With it all, he
remained the same alert, bird-like, inconspicuous person, with the same
unswerving belief in his own methods and his own destinies, a belief
which never passed from self-confidence to self-importance. Unless you
were so determined a hater of Potterism as to be blindly prejudiced, you
could not help liking Lord Pinkerton.

5

Jane, sulking because she could not fight, thought for a short time that
she would nurse, and get abroad that way. Then it became obvious that too
many fools were scrambling to get sent abroad, and an