"Sit down here," she said, and placed a chair before the open fire kindled on the edge of the autumn evening. "Sit down, and rest."

"'The 'White Shield' has gone to sea," he remarked, anxious to give the latest news.

"The 'White Shield'?"

"Haven't you heard about her?"

"No."

"Why, I thought every body knew about the 'White Shield.'"

And did she know that Wort Wentworth had gone to sea in the "White Shield?" No; she was ignorant of that important fact. How narrow the circle of her knowledge was!

"I know one thing, though, little boy," said the old lady, "that the sea, which fascinates so many young people, may prove to be a very hard master.

O, I don't like to hear it roar on stormy nights!"

Then the old lady went to a picture of a ship at sea hanging on the wall.

There she stood and sighed. Charlie wondered what it all meant.

"But there is one thing we can do on stormy nights," she added. "We can pray. And I sometimes think, nights when the winds are roaring, how many souls all along the coast must be kneeling while the sailors at sea are up in the rigging, climbing, or furling the sails."

CHAPTER XIV.

SETTING A TRAP.

Ring, ring, ring!

The bell of St. John's was busily swinging, flinging notes of gold and silver down upon the town, and in response, how many people came out into the streets as if to pick up the gold and silver shower. The bell was ringing for a temperance meeting. Many were immediately interested in the subject of temperance; but whether all would go, was a question. It was a serious doubt whether those that the meeting wanted would feel that they needed the meeting. There were several very important cases.

Case one--who?

Tim Tyler? He needed the meeting, but that is not the case here intended, but Dr. Tilton, the apothecary. Dr. Tilton? Yes. For some time it had been known he was in the habit of indulging in a gla.s.s, "only a gla.s.s." As a result, he had been helped home drunk from his store. He did not feel desirous to attend the temperance meeting.

Case number two, Tim Tyler? Not yet, but--Will Somers! Ah, that was sad.

If you could have seen Aunt Stanshy, you would have thought it was the saddest thing in the world.

"O, Miss Barry," said Aunt Stanshy, bursting into tears, "I'm awful afraid I made an idol of that young man--so nice, you know. I've seen my idols break one after the other. I shouldn't have said a word about it, but he was seen on the street, and it became town talk, and it's all out and round. Dreadful, dreadful!"

"It is, and I'm afraid my uncle is responsible. It is bad every way. There is need of a temperance work here. We are all asleep," replied Miss Barry, who was calling at Aunt Stanshy's, the two women opening their hearts to one another during the call. Dr. Tilton was responsible for Will Somers's fall. One day, when Will was complaining of an ill feeling, the apothecary had proffered wine as a remedy, and had offered it several times when he was tired, and Will had fallen under the influence of a seemingly innocent ally. People began to talk about Dr. Tilton and his clerk. Then they began to shun the store. Not all, though, for a line of red noses and trembling hands and unsteady knees filed into the store, and not the sick people sent orders, but old topers frequented the place more and more. Dr. Tilton noticed the change, and was alarmed. Still he did not change that habit of taking "only a gla.s.s." Will Somers was unhappy. He saw his mistake, and knew that the community frowned upon him. He rarely whistled now. As for the musical instrument he once loved to perform upon, it was a silent piece of furniture. He had some fine qualities of character, and his vulnerable side was his susceptibility to outside influence. The enemy had found a weak wall on that side of his character, and there successfully a.s.saulted him. Will knew that his misconduct grieved Aunt Stanshy. The club felt it, for by degrees the bad news reached them. It seemed as if each one was burdened by a load of guilt--as if having served in Dr.

Tilton's store, Charlie, Sid, Tony, and the rest had there sinned, and, in consequence, each had been seen tipsy on the street, and each carried a load that bowed him.

It was Charlie who happened to be at home when his teacher was calling on Aunt Stanshy, and he accidentally overheard a fragment of the conversation. When Miss Barry was fairly out of the house, and Aunt Stanshy was returning through the entry to her kitchen-work, sighing by the way, Charlie ran to her and excitedly said, "We--we--will get up a meeting!"

"A meeting about what?"

"Why, why, temperance."

"Who get it up?"

"We--we boys--our club."

Aunt Stanshy guessed at once the occasion and object of Charlie's remarks, that he had heard the conversation between her and her caller, and that this proposition for a temperance meeting was to meet the grave necessities of the hour.

"Yes, yes," he said, "let's go and see teacher about it"

"What, go now?"

"Yes, you and she can talk it over."

In a few minutes Charlie and Aunt Stanshy were hurrying down the street as if suddenly summoned by the pressing sickness of a friend.

"O, let's get Sid," suggested Charlie, as they neared Sid Waters's house.

"Well," replied Aunt Stanshy.

Sid, whose appet.i.te never failed him, was eating a lunch, but he responded at once to Charlie's invitation to "Come out."

"What's up, Charlie? I am the man for you," replied the president, who had an abundance of resources at his command, and was prepared--in his own opinion--for any emergency. "What is up? Down-townies round?"

"We want to have a temperance meeting. Come down to teacher's."

"All right. Temperance meeting? The club get it up?"

"I don't just know, but we can talk it over."

"If they want a meeting, we can give 'em one," said Sid, confidently.

Thus re-enforced, Aunt Stanshy and Charlie presented themselves at Miss Barry's door.

"Come in, come," said the teacher. "I have just got home myself."

"We--we have come," exclaimed Aunt Stanshy, "to see if we couldn't have a temperance meeting! You know we need it."

"O, I see; and the boys?"

"The boys," said Sid, proudly, "think you could rely on them to--to--pull an oar."

He felt it might be prudent not to propose to do the whole of the rowing, and offer the town a meeting managed wholly by the "Up-the-Ladder Club,"

but modestly--to--pull an oar.

"Splendid!" said the teacher, her enthusiasm charming the boys. "Among us all, I guess we can manage it."

"I don't know as I can do any thing except to get people out," said Aunt Stanshy, fearful that she might be called upon to speak in the meeting.