“Surely,” the man concurred.  “But your coffee.  It’s getting cold,” he added.

Nancy hastily picked up her cup.

“Why am I telling you all this?” she laughed.  “We were going to talk of the—­boys.”

“We surely were.”  Father Adam laughed responsively.  “But personal interest I guess doesn’t figure to be denied for long.  We sort of get the notion we can shut it out.  But we can’t.  We try to guess there’s other things.  Things more important.  Things that matter a whole lot more.”  He shook his head.  “It’s no use.  There aren’t.  I guess it doesn’t matter where we look.  Self’s pushing out at every angle, and won’t be denied.  It would be hypocrisy to deny it, wouldn’t it?  It’s the biggest thing in life.  It’s the whole thing.”

“And it’s such a pity,” Nancy agreed slyly.  “Just think,” she went on, “I’ve got a hundred notions for the good of the world.  These boys for instance.  I’d like to make their lives what they ought to be.  Full of comfort and security and—­and everything to make it worth while.  Instead of that my first and whole concern is to make good for Nancy McDonald.  To do all those things for her.  It’s dreadful when you think of it, isn’t it?” She sighed.  “I want to do good to the—­the ‘underdog,’ and all the time I’m planning for myself.  I want to fight all the time for those who hold opportunity out to me.  It doesn’t really matter to me why the Skandinavia is disliked.  They give me opportunity.  I reckon they’ve been good to me.  So I’m their slave to fight for them, and work for them, whatever their methods.  Yes.  It’s too bad,” she laughed frankly.  “I can’t deny it.  I’d like to, but—­I can’t.”

“No.”

Father Adam set down his empty cup, and sat with his arms resting on his parted knees.  His hands were clasped.

“You remind me of someone,” he said, in his simple disarming fashion.  “Queerly enough it’s a man.  A strong, hard, kindly, good-natured man.  I found him without a thought but to make good.  And I knew he would make good.  Then it came my way to show him how.  I offered him a notion.  The notion was fine.  Oh, yes—­though I say it.  It was the sort of thing if it were carried to success would hand the fellow working it down to posterity as one of his country’s benefactors.  The notion appealed to him.  It stirred something in him, and set fire to his enthusiasm.  He jumped for it.  Why?  Was it the thought of doing a great act for his country?  Was it for that something that was all good stirring in him?  No.  I guess it was because he was a strong, physical, and spiritual, and mental force concentrated on big things, primarily inspired by Self.  Personal achievement.  It seems to me the good man always does what’s real and worth while in the way of helping himself.”

“Yes.  I think I understand.”  The girl nodded.  “And this strong physical, and spiritual, and mental force?  Have I heard of him?  Is he known?  Has he achieved?”