"That's just like you, you old Presbyterian," said Happy Tom. "I suppose
you'll argue next that you can't enjoy Heaven unless you've first burned
in the other place for a thousand years."
"There may be something in that," said Dalton gravely, "although the test,
of course, would be an extremely severe one."
"I know which way you're headed, George."
"Then tell me, because I don't know myself."
"As soon as this war is over you'll enter the ministry, and no sin will
get by you, not even those nice little ones that all of us like to
forgive."
"Maybe you're right, Happy, and if I do go into the ministry I shall
at once begin long and earnest preparation for the task which would
necessarily be the most difficult of my life."
"And may I make so bold as to inquire what it is, George?"
"Your conversion, Happy."
Langdon grinned.
"But why do you want to convert me, George? I'm perfectly happy as I am."
"For your own well being, Tom. Your happiness is nothing to me, but I
want to make you good."
Both laughed the easy laugh of youth, but Harry looked long at Dalton.
He thought that he detected in him much of the spirit of Stonewall
Jackson, and that here was one who had in him the makings of a great
minister.
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