re stout walking-stick. You may lean your
whole weight on it, and it won't give way; and it'll help you in peace
through the trials of this life, and on the road to a better."

Such was Thomas Bradly's kitchen. Many a happy gathering was held
there, and many a useful lesson learned in it.

But, besides the rooms already mentioned, there was one adjoining the
kitchen which was specially Thomas Bradly's own. It was of considerable
size, and was entered from the inside by a little door out of the
kitchen. This door was commonly locked, and the key kept by Bradly
himself. The more usual approach to it was from the outside. Its
external appearance did not exactly contribute to the symmetry of the
whole premises; but that was a matter of very small moment to its
proprietor, who had added it on for a special purpose. The house itself
was on the hill-side, on the outskirts of the town, as has been said.
There was a little bit of garden in front and on either side, so that it
could not be built close up to. At present it had no very near
neighbours. A little gate in the low wall which skirted the garden, on
the left hand as you faced the house, allowed any visitor to have access
to the outer door of Bradly's special room without going through the
garden up the front way. On this outer door was painted in white
letters, "Surgery."

"Do you mend broken bones, Tommy Tracks?" asked a working-man of not
very temperate or moral habits soon after this word had been painted on
the door. "If you do, I think we may perhaps give you a job before
long, as it'll be Crossbourne Wakes next Sunday week."

"No," was Bradly's reply; "I mend broken hearts, and put drunkards'
homes into their proper places when they've got out of joint."

"Indeed! You'll be clever to do that, Tommy."

"Ah! You don't know, Bill. P'raps you'll come and try my skill
yourself afore long."

The other turned away with a scornful laugh and a gibe; but the arrow
had hit its mark. But, indeed, what Thomas Bradly said was true.
Broken hearts and dislocated families had been set to rights in that
room. There would appointments be kept by wretched used-up sots, who
would never have been persuaded to ask for Bradly at the ordinary door
of entrance; and there on his knees, with the poor conscience-stricken
penitent bowed beside him, would Thomas pour out his simple but fervent
supplications to Him who never "broke a bruised reed, nor quenched the
smoking