"I give you my solemn word."

"I blew it out!"

The fine old face twitched with suppressed laughter as he loosed the
straps, sat down on the cot and drew the youngster in his lap.

"You're a bright chap, my son. You'll go far in this world some day. A
great diplomat perhaps, but the road you've started on to-night can only
lead you at last into a blind alley. You know now that I love you, don't
you?"

"Yes, Father."

"Come now, my Boy, there's too much strength and character in those fine
eyes and that splendid square chin and jaw for you to let roistering
fools lead you by the nose. You wouldn't have gotten into that devilment
if they hadn't persuaded you--now would you?"

"No."

"All right. Use the brain and heart God has given you. Don't let fools
use it for their own ends. Do your own thinking. Be your own man. Stand
on your own bottom."

And then, in low tones, the fine old face glowing with enthusiasm, the
monk talked to his little friend of Truth and Right, of Character and
Principle, of Love and God, until the tears began to slowly steal down
the rosy cheeks.