lusion. We'd
like to do our little bit towards squaring things up. It may not be
much, but lots more may come of it."

A modified but a fairly cordial assent.

"We haven't money to give away--not much of it, at any rate," Brooks
continued.

"More bloomin' tracks," the costermonger interrupted, and spat upon the
floor. "Fair sickens me, it does."

"As for tracts," Brooks continued, calmly, "I don't think I've ever read
one in my life, and I don't want to. We haven't such a thing in the
place, and I shouldn't know where to go for them, and though that
gentleman down there with a herring sticking out of his pocket seems to
have done himself pretty well already, I'd rather stand him a glass of
beer than offer him such a thing."

A roar of laughter, during which a wag in the crowd quietly picked the
costermonger's pocket of the fish with a deftness born of much practice,
and sent it flying over the room. It was promptly returned, and found a
devious way back to its owner in a somewhat dusty and mauled condition.

"There is just one thing we have to ask for and insist upon," Brooks
continued. "When you come to us for help, tell us the truth. If you've
been drunk all the week and haven't earned any money, well, we may help
you out with a Sunday dinner. If you've been in prison and won't mind
owning up to it, we shan't send you away for that reason. We want your
women to come and bring us your children, that we can have a look at
them, tell us how much you all make a week between you, and what you
need most to make you a bit more comfortable. And we want your husbands
to come and tell us where they work, and what rent they pay, and if
they haven't any work, and can't get it, we'll see what we can do. I
tell you I don't care to start with whether you're sober and
industrious, or idle, or drunkards. We'll give any one a leg-up if we
can. I don't say we shall keep that up always, because of course we
shan't. But we'll give any one a fair chance. Now do you want to ask
any questions?"

A pallid but truculent-looking young man pushed himself to the front.

"'Ere, guv'nor!" he said. "Supposing yer was to stand me a coat--I
ain't 'ad one for two months--should I 'ave to come 'ere on a Sunday and
sing bloomin' hymns?"

"If you did," Brooks answered him, "you'd do it by yourself, and you'd
stand a fair chance of being run out. There's going to be no preaching
or hymn-singing here. Those sorts of things are very well in their