"Why, I've seen a man stay to Communion," Magnus went on, "and when we came out, there was Pretty Newcomb waiting for him in the rain, at the foot of the Chapel steps. Just walked him off alongside of her umbrella—or under it. And what are you going to do?"
"I see. But, Magnus, you said 'Sunday' night. What sort of girls are at the Camp Sunday night?"
"Summer girls," said Magnus briefly.
"Well, dear," said the mother, the cheerful tone coming back to her voice, "the Lord is 'able to keep you from falling,' even in the most difficult places; and to make you 'fruitful to every good work,' in spite of all the fowls of the air that ever fluttered down. But remember, that on your part the word is: 'Hold fast that which thou hast, that no man take thy crown.'"
"I know." But then Magnus remembered something else, and was suddenly silent.
And now came a soft, imperative call to breakfast.
"Waffles!" cried Rose in the distance, and the talk ended. Only as the mother went out with her boy's arm round her waist, she looked up at him with her true eyes.
"Magnus, never 'go through the motions,' as you call it, with the wrong woman. Never, as a sham. It dishonours the woman and degrades the man, and robs the other woman—the right one—of somewhat that belongs to her alone."
"Well, I never really have, mammy," said Magnus gravely; "so make your mind easy. And I never shall—unless the right one throws me over. I don't know what I'll do then."