It is often assumed by those who know no better that such a home as
Sydney Baxter's produces either prigs or profligates. As a matter of
fact, one of the reasons of this book is to prove that out of such a
home may come, I believe often does come, the best type of
Englishman--a Christian sportsman, a man who fights all the better for
his country because he has been taught from childhood to fear God and
hate iniquity.
But it was well for Sydney Baxter that he prepared for the chances and
quick changes of his military life by learning how to make the best of
his hitherto hidden gift of companionship.
This is how it came about. He writes:
"One afternoon in early autumn a card was put into the hands
of every young man in our office, inviting us to a tea and
social evening at the Y.M.C.A. Headquarters. The chaps said
to me, 'Of course _you_ are going, Baxter?' and I answered,
'Why not?' They, however, seemed to be of the opinion that
the tea was, more or less, a bait to a prayer-meeting or
something of that kind. However, several went, expecting,
and preparing themselves for, the worst. We were welcomed by
a group of gentlemen who seemed to be possessors of smiles
of permanency; they conducted us to a large room already
well filled with others like ourselves, whom we incorrectly
judged to be members, as they seemed to be quite at home.
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