“Henderson’s.”

Reginald turned his horse’s head.  “I might as well go along.  A man’s a fool to ride alone when he can have company.”

John gave him a swift, comprehensive glance.

“How are things going, Rege?  You’re not looking very fit.”

Reginald yawned and drew his hand across his heavy eyes.  “Oh, all right.  Oyster suppers and that sort of thing are apt to make a fellow drowsy.”

“Don’t go too fast, Rege.”

“Why not?” said Reginald carelessly.  “It suits the governor, and that book you’re so fond of says children should obey their parents.”

* * * * *

“I declare, John, you’re a regular algebraic puzzle!” he exclaimed later in the day, as he stood beside John in the carpenter’s shop, watching the curling strips of wood which his plane was tossing off with sweeping strokes.  “You put all there is of you into everything you do.  You take as much pains over a plough handle as you would over a buggy!”

“Why not?  God takes as much pains with a humming-bird as an elephant.  Mere size doesn’t count.”

“Nan loves you, Reggie,” and a tiny hand was slipped shyly into her brother’s.

“All right, Magpie,” he said carelessly.  “You had better run home now to mother.  Your chatter makes my head ache.”

The laughing lips quivered and the child turned away from him to John and hid her face against his knee.  He lifted her up on the bench beside him and gave her a handful of shavings to play with.

“I don’t see how you accomplish anything with that child everlastingly under your feet!” Reginald continued, “yet you do two men’s work and seem to love it into the bargain.  I’m sure if I had to cooper up all the things on the farm as you do, I should loathe the very sight of tools.”

“I do love it, Rege.  Jesus Christ was a carpenter, you know.  I get very near to him out here.”

“Jesus Christ!” echoed Reginald with a puzzled stare.  “What is coming to you, John?”

“It has come, Rege,” John said with a great light in his face.  “I have found my Master.”

“Upon my word, John, you are the queerest fellow!  What next, I wonder?”

“The next thing, Rege,” and John laid his hand affectionately upon his friend’s shoulder, “is for you to find him too.”

“So, you’re going to turn preacher, John?  You’ll find me a hard subject.  A short life and a merry one is what I am going in for.  I’ve no turn for Christianity.”

“It pays, Rege.”

“Don’t believe it.  How can life be worth living when you’re drivelling psalm tunes all day long?”

John laughed, and there was a new note of gladness in his voice which Reginald was quick to notice.  “I haven’t begun to drivel yet, Rege; and life counts for a good deal more when a man has an object than when he is living just to please himself.”

“And who should a man please but himself, I should like to know?”