st comes marching on."

"I wonder whether they sing the sixth stanza," said Frank curiously.
Jack looked at him in amazement. "What is the song?" he asked,
conscious that he was getting new sidelights upon his younger brother's
character this evening.

"It's William Morris' 'March of the Workers,' and the verse I'm talking
about begins, 'O, ye rich men, hear and tremble.' Come on in, Jack," and
a moment later John Earl heard his brother's beautiful voice take up the
words:

"Many a hundred years, passed over, have they labored deaf and blind;
Never tidings reached their sorrow, never hope their toil might find.
Now at last they've heard and hear it, and the cry comes down the wind
And their feet are marching on.

"On we march, then, we, the workers, and the rumor that ye hear
Is the blended sound of battle and deliv'rance drawing near;
For the hope of every creature is the banner that we bear,
And the world is marching on."

Silvia Holland turned quickly when she heard the strong, unknown voice
join in the ringing words, and fairly gasped when she saw that it was
Frank Earl who was singing, while his brother looked at her with an air
as bewildered as her own. The moment that the song was concluded she
greeted them, and found them comfortable seats where they could see and
hear without being too conspicuous.

"We like to have men come to our meetings, and a few generally drop in.
I expect several to-night, for we have a speaker from Colorado, but we
don't often have the luxury of a baritone note for our music, so we owe
you a special vote of thanks, Mr. Earl," she said to Frank.

He bowed. "Oh, no; it's the other way about," he said lightly. "You
don't know how grateful I am to you for not singing the 'Day of Wrath'
verse, in which all of us who haven't succeeded in swearing off our
taxes hear what is coming to us. How well that girl presides," he added,
as a businesslike young woman dispatched the reading and adoption of
minutes and the reports of committees without a hitch or a moment's
useless delay.

"That is Florence Dresser," explained Miss Holland. "She is one of the
leaders in the Laundry Girls' Association. The secretary," indicating a
young woman who might have been a twelve-year-old child, save for her
sad, careworn face, "has nearly killed herself sewing for sweaters to
take care of her family; we've found homes for the children and she
lives here