s--that's right," muttered Tom Extrum
bitterly, "and not even a six-months-old newspaper for the likes of us!"

"You don't look so werry wicked," said Daisy, taking in the room with a
comprehensive glance, and putting an arm around Mr. Bob's neck, as
though confident of having at least one friend among the company. "I
wonder if you wouldn't all like to come along to my house, and play with
my magic lantern, and--and--organize a Band of Hope?"

She was abashed by the roar of laughter that followed the proposal. Papa
Benson flung himself on the floor and rolled over and over. Long Joe
uttered whoops of delight. Even Mr. Bob shook with speechless mirth,
till the veins on his forehead stood out like strings. Never in all its
history was there such a hullabaloo in the Land We Live In. As the
rumpus died down something very like remorse overwhelmed the roisterers
as they saw Daisy's flushing, quivering little face, hot with
mortification.

It was Mr. Bob who sprang to the rescue before the brimming tears could
fall.

"I'm on!" he shouted, rising to his feet with unexpected enthusiasm.
"Now, then, boys, who says 'Aye, aye' for the Band of 'Ope?"

A good part of the crowd would have preferred to stay by their spree;
but so contagious is example and so sheeplike the sailor nature, that
the whole room fell in with Bob, and answered his call like one man.

He swung Daisy up on his shoulder, where, from that dizzy perch, she
looked back shyly at the noisy pack behind her. Secure in the conquest
of the ringleader, whom intuitively she felt stronger than the rest, and
kinder and more resolute, with a heart beneath his rough exterior as
simple and childlike as her own, she managed to keep up her courage in
spite of the loud, frightening laughter and the tipsy boisterousness and
horseplay that marked the inception of the Band of Hope. Her
satisfaction was suddenly checked, however, by the sight of the Kanaka
girls joining the procession and making as though to follow.

"No, they mustn't come!" she cried out jealously. "Please, Mr.
Mathison, tell them they mustn't come! This is to be for men only!"

"Turn them back!" thundered Bob. "Don't yer 'ear the little lady's
_h_orders? Scamper, ye jades!"

Papa Benson struck up a quickstep on the concertina, and, marching
beside Bob Fletcher, helped to lead the van. The mutineers,
beach-combers, and traders fell in two by two. The rear was brought up
by the guard, loutish, hobbling, and