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 of all the reformers. They might have accomplished something: if they hadn't forgotten the devil. It's the trouble of every youngster, thinking he sees his life before him; they all forget the devil."

Anthony laughed.

"What line of tactics do you suggest for overcoming him?" he asked.

"Haven't myself had sufficient success to justify my giving advice," answered Mr. Mowbray. "All I can warn you is that he takes many shapes. Sometimes he dresses himself up as a dear old lady and calls himself Mother Nature. Sometimes he wears a shiny hat and claims to be nothing more than a plain man of business. Sometimes he comes clothed in glory and calls himself Love."

The old gentleman reached for his hat.

"Didn't expect to find me among the prophets, did you?" he added with a smile.

He was growing feeble, and Anthony walked back with him to The Priory. They passed St. Aldys churchyard on their way.

"I'll just look in," said Mr. Mowbray, "and say good-bye. I always like to before I go away."

Mr. Mowbray had bought many years ago the last three vacant graves in the churchyard. His