nothing to take home to them. It's such an old story, that it sounds
hackneyed and commonplace. But God knows there's no other tragedy on
His earth like it."

Mr. Bullsom was uncomfortable.

"I've given a hundred pounds to the Unemployed Fund," he said.

"It's money well spent if it had been a thousand," Brooks answered.
"Some day they may learn their strength, and they will not suffer then,
like brute animals, in silence. Look here. I'm going to speak to one
of them."

He touched a tall youth on the shoulder. "Out of work, my lad?" he
asked. The youth turned surlily round. "Yes. Looks like it, don't
it?"

"What are you?" Brooks asked.

"Clicker."

"Why did you leave your last place?"

"Gaffer said he's no more orders--couldn't keep us on. The shop's shut
up. Know of a job, guv'nor?" he asked, with a momentary eagerness.
"I've two characters in my pocket--good 'uns."

"You've tried to get a place elsewhere?" Brooks asked.

"Tried? D'ye suppose I'm standing here for fun? I've tramped the
blessed town. I went to thirty factories yesterday, and forty to-day.
Know of a job, guv'nor? I'm not particular."

"I wish I did," Brooks answered, simply. "Here's half-a-crown. Go to
that coffee-palace over there and get a meal. It's all I can do for
you."

"Good for you, guv'nor," was the prompt answer. "I can treat my brother
on that. Here, Ned," he caught hold of a younger boy by the shoulder,
"hot coffee and eggs, you sinner. Come on."

The two scurried off together. Brooks and his companion passed on.

"It is just this," Brooks said, in a low tone, "just the thought of
these people makes me afraid, positively afraid to argue with Henslow.
You see--he may be right. I tell you that in a healthily-governed
country there should be work for every man who is able and willing to
work. And in England there isn't. Free Trade works out all right
logically, but it's one thing to see it all on paper, and it's another
to see this--here around us--and Medchester isn't the worst off by any
means."

Bullsom was silent for several moments.

"I tell you what it is, Brooks," he said. "I'll send another hundred to
the Unemployed Fund to-night."

"It's generous of you, Mr. Bullsom," the young lawyer answered.
"You'll never regret it. But look here. There's a greater
responsibility even than feeding these poor fellows resting upon us
to-day. They don't want our charity. They've an equal right to live
with us. What they want, an