way,
but they've nothing to do with this show. I'm not sure whether we shall
open on Sundays or not. If we do it will be only for the ordinary
business. Now let's get to work."

"Sounds a bit of orl right, and no mistake," the young man remarked,
turning round to the crowd. "I'm going to stop and 'ave a go for that
coat."

A young man in a bright scarlet jersey pushed himself to the front,
followed by a little volley of chaff, more or less good-natured.

"There's Salvation Joe wants a new trombone."

"Christian Sall's blown a hole in the old one, eh, Joe?"

Breathless he reached Brooks' side. The sweat stood out in beads upon
his forehead. He seemed not to hear a word that was said amongst the
crowd. Brooks smiled at him good-humouredly. "Well, sir," he said,
"what can I do for you?"

"I happened in, sir, out of curiosity," the young man said, in a strange
nasal twang, the heritage of years of outdoor preaching; "I hoped to
hear of one more good work begun in this den of iniquity and to clasp
hands with another brother in God."

"Glad to see you," Brooks said. "You'll remember we're busy."

"The message of God," the young man answered, "must be spoken at all
times."

"Oh, chuck 'im out!" cried the disgusted costermonger, spitting upon
the floor. "That sort o' stuff fair sickens me."

The young man continued as though he had not heard.

"Such charity as you are offering," he cried, "is corruption. You are
going to dispense things for their carnal welfare, and you do nothing
for their immortal souls. You will not let them even shout their thanks
to God. You will fill their stomachs and leave their souls hungry."

The costermonger waved a wonderful red handkerchief, and spat once more
on the floor. Brooks laid his hand upon the young man's shoulder.

"Look here, my young friend," he said, "you're talking rot. Men and
women who live down here in wretchedness, and who are fighting every
moment of their time to hang on to life, don't want to be talked to
about their souls. They need a leg-up in the world, and we've come to
try and give it to them. We're here as friends, not preachers. We'll
leave you to look after their souls. You people who've tried to make
your religion the pill to go with your charity have done more harm in
the world than you know of."

The young man was on fire to speak, but he had no chance. They hustled
him out good-naturedly except that the costermonger, running him down
the room, to