The authorities
aren't very fond of us. They say we encourage the men to grumble
and give them too great idea of their own importance. Brother
Anselm asked a general once with whom we fell out if it was
possible to give a man whose profession it was to defend his
country too great an idea of his own importance. The general merely
blew out his cheeks and looked choleric. He had no suspicion that
he had been scored off. We don't push too much religion into the
men at present. We've taught them to respect the Crucifix on the
wall in the dining-room, and sometimes they attend Vespers. But
they're still rather afraid of chaff, such as being called the
Salvation Army by their comrades. Well, here's an end to this long
letter, for I must write now to Brother Jerome, whose name-day it
is to-morrow. Love to all at the Rectory.
Your ever affectionate
Mark.
Mark remained at Aldershot until the week before Christmas, when with a
party of Tommies he went back to the Abbey. He found that Brother Chad's
convalescence had been seriously impeded in its later stages by the
prospect of having to remain at the Abbey as guest-master, and though
Mark was sorry to leave Aldershot he saw by the way the Tommies greeted
their old friend that he was dear to their hearts.
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