ugh we have differed about trifles and may
do so again, we don't want a better one--and if we did we couldn't find
him."

A chord from the piano rang through the approving murmurs, and the
company rose to their feet before the lad had beaten out the first bar
of the jingling rhythm. Then the voices took it up, and the great hall
shook to the rafters with the last "Nobody can deny."

Trite as it was, Barrington saw the darker flush in the bronzed faces,
and there was a shade of warmer color in his own as he went on again.

"The things one feels the most are those one can least express, and I
will not try to tell you how I value your confidence," he said.
"Still, the fact remains that sooner or later I must let the reins fall
into younger hands, and there is a man here who will, I fancy, lead you
farther than you would ever go with me. Times change, and he can teach
you how those who would do the most for the Dominion need live to-day.
He is also, and I am glad of it, one of us, for traditions do not
wholly lose their force and we know that blood will tell. That this
year has not ended in disaster irretrievable is due to our latest
comrade, Lance Courthorne."

This time there were no musical honors or need of them, for a shout
went up that called forth an answering rattle from the cedar paneling.
It was flung back from table to table up and down the great room, and
when the men sat down, flushed and breathless, their eyes still
shining, the one they admitted had saved Silverdale rose up quietly at
the foot of the table. The hand he laid on the snowy cloth shook a
little, and the bronze that generally suffused it was less noticeable
in his face. All who saw it felt that something unusual was coming,
and Maud Barrington leaned forward a trifle, with a curious throbbing
of her heart.

"Comrades! It is, I think, the last time you will hear the term from
me," he said. "I am glad that we have made and won a good fight at
Silverdale, because it may soften your most warranted resentment when
you think of me."

Every eye was turned upon him, and an expression of bewilderment crept
into the faces, while a lad who sat next to him touched his arm
reassuringly.

"You'll feel your feet in a moment, but that's a curious fashion of
putting it," he said.

Winston turned to Barrington, and stood silent a moment. He saw Maud
Barrington's face showing strained and intent, but less bewildered than
the others, and that of he