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I
confess to a selfish interest. My own boy, Duncan, has enlisted in
that unit, and many of our finest young men with him. I assumed the
responsibility of asking for your appointment. I must urge you solemnly
to consider the matter before you decline."
Eloquently Barry pleaded his unfitness, instancing his failure as a
preacher in his last field.
"I am not a preacher," he protested. "I am not a 'mixer.' They all say
so. I shall be impossible as a chaplain."
"Young man," said the superintendent, a note of sternness in his voice,
"you know not what transformations in character this war will work.
Would I were twenty years younger," he added passionately, "twenty years
sounder. Think of the opportunity to stand for God among your men, to
point them the way of duty, and fit them for it, to bring them comfort,
when they need comfort sorely, to bring them peace, when they most need
peace."
Barry came away from the interview more disturbed than he had ever been
in his life. After he had returned to his hotel, a message from his
superintendent recalled him.


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