The boy hung his head in shame; he folded his arms and sat immovable till the five minutes were over, then he said timidly, ’I wouldn’t hate a brother.  I’d like to have one.  Do you think it means the same when it’s a girl?’

’Precisely the same—­a brother means any person in the world, man, woman, or child.’

‘Then I ought to be hung.’

There was much self-pity in Teddy’s tone.  Mr. Upton did not smile, he was gazing abstractedly out of the window, and said slowly, ’The root of murder is anger.  The same motive that prompts a passionate statement, prompts a passionate and perhaps fatal blow.’

There was silence; then in a more cheerful tone the rector turned to the little culprit.

’And now tell me the whole story, and who it was that you spoke to in church.’

Teddy was perfectly ready with his defence, and he poured into his listener’s ears such a voluble story that the rector was quite bewildered when it came to an end.  ‘It’s father’s button I care about,’ added the boy, fingering his beloved object proudly, ’and she didn’t believe me a bit, and she put out her tongue as long as ever she could!’

’Tell me the story of the button; I have heard, but have forgotten the details.’

Teddy’s eyes sparkled, and his little head was raised erect again.  Slipping off his chair, he stood in front of the rector, and told the oft-repeated tale with dramatic force and effect.  Mr. Upton listened with interest, but before he could offer any comment on it tea was announced, and taking the child by the hand he marched him into the dining-room.

Hot tea-cakes, strawberry jam, and plum cake kept our little friend fully occupied for some time.  He wondered if all the naughty boys interviewed by the rector had been treated to the same fare, and he began to think an invitation to Sunday tea at the rectory highly desirable.

‘And now,’ said Mr. Upton, towards the end of the meal, ’I want some more talk with you.  Your father was a brave soldier; he died in saving the colours.  You want to grow up like him, do you not?’

‘Yes, sir, indeed I do.’

’There is a little verse in God’s Word that describes our Lord’s banner—­His colours.  Will you say it after me?—­“His banner over me was love."’ Teddy repeated the verse slowly, and with interest.

‘It is a wonderful banner,’ pursued Mr. Upton thoughtfully, ’the enemy confronted with it on every side.  In the thick of the fight we can but hoist our colours, “Love.”  God’s love to man, when man is fighting from his infancy against his Maker.  What host would not march to meet the foe with such a banner dyed red with the life-blood of their Captain, the Son of God, the Saviour of the world?’

Teddy drew a long breath, and when the rector paused, he cried enthusiastically, ’Please go on, sir.  I like to hear it.  Will God let me hold up the banner for Him?’

‘If you have enlisted in His service.  Are you one of His soldiers?’