"JIM COATES."

At first it pa.s.sed unnoticed, but the second day a man tore it down to read it more readily. After he had spelt the words out he called out in a loud voice: "I say, chaps, here's a lark! Do you just listen: it's as good as a play," and then in quite an affected tone of voice he read out poor Jim's brave notice.

"There he is!" exclaimed quite a score of voices, while as many derisive fingers were pointed in his direction, "there's the red ribbon," and then they gathered round their victim, and began giving him a warm time.

One took away his ribbon, another tried to dry up imaginary tears from his face, and, last of all, they decided to carry him away to some pond and give him a ducking. Jim prayed as he never prayed before. It was so hard to keep down "swear words," but just as these rough fellows were about to carry their threat into execution the ganger, whose acquaintance Phebe had made, came along.

"What are you up to, lads?" seeing Jim on the ground in their midst.

"None of your larks, I tell you, or it'll be the worse for some of you."

The words acted like magic. With a few sulky expressions, and a sly kick or two, they all moved on. The man who had taken the notice down tacked it up again--not through any spirit of rest.i.tution, but in the hope it would bring Jim further trouble.

"Better keep yourself to yourself," was the ganger's advice, "or they'll make this too hot for you."

The news of the "red ribbon man" and "the advertis.e.m.e.nt for a mate"

spread all through the company, and men even came to have a look at Jim as a kind of curiosity.

Two days pa.s.sed, but no mate turned up, though he had put up a second notice in another place. The ganger's advice did not deter or frighten him in the least. But on the third day, just as he was mounting his machine, a very big, lanky fellow came up behind him and said: "I'm the fellow you're looking for, if you've found no one better."

Jim grasped him heartily by the hand: "Bless G.o.d; I am so glad you've come. Now there are two of us we may find some more, and we might start a little prayer in the dinner-hour--a friend of mine (Mrs. Waring) says the railway-men do that in some places."

"But I'm a poor sort of a Christian," said the man; "bless you, I couldn't pray in a meeting; and as for doing what you've done, I should never have had the courage in a whole blue moon. Why, I've stared at that paper two whole blessed days before I was man enough to come up to speak to you. I was afraid the fellows would see me."

"What's your name?" asked Jim.

"d.i.c.k--d.i.c.k Witherson."

"Well, d.i.c.k, don't you go worrying 'cause you didn't speak to me sooner.

I'm only too thankful you've come now. And you know the bravest disciple of all was the one that was at first the biggest coward, so don't you lose heart. Where shall we meet to-morrow in the dinner-hour?" The place was agreed on, and then they parted.

The very next day a third mate was found, and this gave wonderful courage to d.i.c.k, almost transforming him into another sort of man.

The following day was Sat.u.r.day. Work was knocked off at twelve; so there was no time for meeting together again till Monday.

Early that Sat.u.r.day afternoon Mrs. Coates, breathless and agitated, came into Mrs. Waring's shop and, seeing Phebe behind the counter, went up to her at once, exclaiming, "Oh, Mrs. Waring, can you help me! Jim's never come home; he's quite an hour late. I know they often have to wait a good while to be paid, but that's not all. A lad as plays with my Freddie says he saw him go into 'The Rose in June' about half-an-hour ago. O G.o.d, help me; it's all over with him if he's gone in there!"

"It cannot be true."

"The lad says he was sure it was him. Oh, Mrs. Waring, would you mind going in to see if he's there, and try to get him to come home? I daren't go in by myself; he'd give me such a time afterwards if I did."

"Do you want me to go into the public-house?"

"Yes, if you would; we might get him out then before he had spent all his money and was quite drunk. Do you mind? I know it is asking a great deal."

Phebe paused for a moment; but when she looked up at the star she at once answered: "Yes, I will come with you."

It was a very busy time, she could ill be spared, but what was all that compared with the rescue of a soul!

A few minutes afterwards these two women had pa.s.sed through the swing-doors of "The Rose in June"--the first time Phebe had ever entered a public-house.

No sooner had the doors swung to behind them than they were face to face with Jim! To say that a straw would have knocked the man down is but a faint description of his utter astonishment.

"What--what--is the matter!" he gasped. There was not the slightest smell of drink about him.

"Oh, come outside! Come outside, do!" exclaimed Mrs. Coates, bursting into tears.

It did not take the three long to get the other side of the doors, and then, standing on the doorstep, Mrs. Waring began to explain: "You must forgive us; we were afraid----"

"I understand it all, Mrs. Waring," broke in Jim. "Don't you make any trouble of it. You thought I'd come in to have a drink; but I hadn't. I only came in after some of my mates to keep them straight, if I could."

"But, ought you to put yourself in the way of temptation?"

"Bless you, the drink's no snare to me now. I hate even the smell of it. I thought----" and then he faltered.

"I am so sorry," said Phebe Waring, putting her hand on Jim's arm.

Just then who should go by but Stephen Collins and Bessie's superintendent. The former raised his hat and gave Phebe a smile; but the latter pa.s.sed on without any recognition, except for an extra look of grimness on his face.

"No, you're not to say you're sorry," said Jim, magnanimously. "It was only natural you should think it queer. As for my old woman here, no wonder she was nervous, after all she's suffered. And I thank you with all my heart, Mrs. Waring, for coming here, for it shows that if I had indeed gone crooked you wouldn't have given a fellow up."

"A very strange place for a woman who wishes to be thought respectable to be found in!" said the superintendent to Stephen. "Those three had just come out of that public-house."

"Just the very place Jesus would have been found in," answered Stephen drily.

CHAPTER XV

JOY-MISSIONARIES

No flower ever comes up to perfection through one single influence; many powers and companionships, great and tiny, unite to complete its beauty. The winds rock it, the rains wash it, the breezes fan it, the dew kisses it, the sun smiles on it, the clouds give rest to it, the soil feeds it, neighbouring shrubs shelter it, its leaves protect it, the insects enrich it--and over all is the Great Gardener.

Thus groweth to perfect grace a little earthly flower.

Flowers of the Kingdom grow in like manner.

If Bessie was not a success amid dishes and brooms she certainly was behind the counter; many a customer came again and again, attracted by the bright, sunny a.s.sistant, and would even patiently wait till she was disengaged rather than be served by any one else.

In the home circle she was a constant source of pure merriment and joy; very seldom, indeed, was there anything like a cloud upon her spirits as there used so often to be, and this was largely owing to the fact that she was appreciated, that there was now-a-days no fear of being snubbed and scolded. Nanna certainly occasionally "sat upon her," but then it was always done with a smile, and Bessie knew right well every word of "the dear lecture" was uttered because Nanna wished her to be "a right sort of a woman." And then there was the daily inspiration of being with Mrs. Waring, who never lectured; sometimes she would give a look, but that was all, and then there was always love in the look. The girl often wondered why there could not have been the same state of matters at home, and never hesitated to take the most of the blame to herself. She went in home every other day, always with the same determination to be on her good behaviour, but never met with anything like success. It was a long time before she found out the reason of this--it was because the atmosphere of the homes was different. Some flowers can only bloom under certain conditions. One home was Bethany, the other was Gadara.

All the fun and merriment Bessie went in for was not purely spontaneous; knowing the weight of trouble her friend had to carry, she, on set purpose, planned to bring the sparkle to Phebe's eye and the laugh to her lips. Her keen sense of the ludicrous and her ready wit always made her efforts appear natural. One day an old man--an old bachelor--came into the shop, and complained that so many people owed him money, mentioning one, a widow woman, but he added, "I shall stand it no longer, I shall 'court' her." Of course, he meant the county court. When Bessie retailed this at dinner, she described his look of blank wonder when she offered to be bridesmaid! "And do you know, that poor old dear never grasped what I meant, and I do believe he went away thinking I had made him an offer of marriage. I do indeed. I must not do any more adumbrations again."

"What!" exclaimed Mrs. Colston, nearly choking.