 Section 8 of Miss Priscilla Hunter and My Daughter Susan by Pansy. So you believe also in the blue ribbon movement? I said inquiringly, as having revolved my friend's last statements for a few minutes, I concluded I would like further light. Oh yes, why I believe in everything that works towards the end desired. I joined the blue ribbon people with heart and hand, working with all my might. I am working in that same way now, and mean to continue so long as there is a yard of blue ribbon in the country. Or, what would be better, so long as there is a man, woman, or child in the country whose name is not on the total abstinence pledge? Perhaps you belonged also to the woman's crusade? Perhaps I did, she said, laughing. You would certainly have thought so if you could have seen the crowds I walked through and the condition of my dress when I reached home occasionally after a day's campaign. I was in the very thickest of it, I assure you. But Susan, do you really believe that was the wisest way to attempt a reform? Oh, as to that, I don't believe the wisest way has ever been attempted yet. What is more, I don't believe anybody knows exactly what the wisest way would be. There were flaws in the management of the crusade, and there are flaws in the Murphy movement, and the Red Ribbon movement, and every other movement. Dear me, there are flaws in the management of churches and schools and banks, and benevolent organizations and households. Who pretends to have found a perfect way for doing anything? Yet who wants to give up living, or to lie down in a corner and groan over the flaws, and wait until he finds perfection before he labors? I am real tired of the people who, while professing to be friends of the temperance cause, spent their strength in crying out against everything that has been attempted, and yet take no pains to enlighten us as to a better way. If somebody will present a plan promising better results than any that has ever been tried, I'll join his ranks and follow to the ends of the earth, or the ends of this city anyway. I am not an advocate for any special way. I have signed at least a hundred temperance pledges since I was born, and I presume I shall sign a hundred more. I don't care how often my name appears in such a connection. I wear a blue ribbon on my watch chain, and a white one on my muff, or fan, or whatever happens to be convenient. I am a crusader, and a no-license woman, and I will be a voter, on that subject at least, if I ever get a chance. I am anything and everything. Let us all work, I say, towards the best that we know how, and some good will come of it. When I can't have a thing as I want it, I come just as near to it as I possibly can, and go ahead. All these eager sentences had not flowed on interuptedly. Instead, Miss Susan had given sudden dodges into this door and around that corner, and had stopped twice to hold conversations. Once she said, Mrs. Smith's is down this lane. I'll just run down there and leave my posy. And Mrs. Smith detained her to be grateful and cry a little, and to say that John held out yet, but was out of work, and she was afraid. Out of work is he? How does that happen? Well, you see, ma'am, Mr. Jenkins had him for workmen down at the distillery, and he said John talked too much wine about the pledge, and wasted his time. He couldn't have no such goings on about him, so he discharged him out and out. But that was only an excuse, ma'am. John didn't waste his time. He has been that faithful that he has done overwork many a night. And everything he did was to labor to get the men to sign, and to vote the no-license ticket. That's everything in life, ma'am, that he has turned off for. Mrs. Susan's face darkened. So he is persecuted for righteousness' sake, is he? Tell him the master's direction is to rejoice and be exceeding glad. Meantime he mustn't be kept out of work. Just ask him to call it my father's at six this evening, will you? I may have a message for him. And receiving Mrs. Smith's profuse and tearful thanks, we left her and picked our way out of her lane, coming in contact at the corner with a gay-looking young man, whom my friend promptly stopped. Fred, have you heard the latest item of interest in the Delta Society? Then followed a rapid explanation of the proposed addition to the evening's entertainment, closing with an eager. Fred, isn't this a capital opportunity to show those people that we are not to be trifled with? I propose to materially reduce their forces by withdrawing a number of their special guests. We can do it with your help. Whereupon she rapidly detailed the plan, throwing no little anxiety into the closing question. Don't you believe it will work? Work? Of course it will, if we manage rightly, and it will be rare fun, too. I haven't heard of anything so gay in an age. I'll go into it with all my heart. My friend Edwards and his two sisters—yes, and for that matter their cousins—will draw off if I give them the hint. They're ripe for fun any time. I'll tell you what, Miss Susan, suppose we send in our cards of regret at about the same hour, so as to give them a regular broadside, you know. What fun! and what idiots they were to give us such a chance as this! Has that young man a very clear idea of the conscientious part of this matter? I asked the young general-in-chief, as these interesting details having been arranged with a parent glee on both sides, we moved on. She gave me a somewhat searching glance before she answered, if answer it could be called. What do you suppose St. Paul meant by being all things to all men? That was Fred Harrison. Do you remember Frank spoke of being specially anxious for one young man? This is the one. He would be perhaps the most sorely tempted tonight of any of them, for the reason that he really hasn't a large amount of principle, and is so easily led. The predominant idea in his brain is fun. If somebody prevailed on him to think that the very funniest thing he could do would be to get intoxicated, I am afraid he would proceed to doing it at once. Now, haven't I a right to appeal to the funny side of his nature, in order to get his help and keep him out of danger? The sort of good-natured rivalry which has existed between the two societies for so long, facilitates our plans wonderfully. Neither Frank nor I care a pin's point about the societies as viewed in a literary light. Between you and me there isn't enough of that element in either of them to keep them from sinking. But it helps our influence over both sides to heartily belong when occasion requires. Oh, I dare say it isn't the best way. Don't suppose I am going to waste my strength in championing it. Only, while you are getting up a better way, I'll work at this, and keep mischief at bay for this one evening if I can. Here is Carson's store. I must go in and get my dolly's slippers cut. Should they be red, do you think, or blue, or what? The returning of the pattern and the matching of the silk and several errands growing out of ideas that seemed to be developing in Miss Susan's mind involved much walking and streetcar riding. In one of the cars, she, standing with her handhold of a strap, engaged in a low-toned conversation with the driver. Don't talk of giving up, I heard her say earnestly. Only think, Mr. Jones, what that involves, what there is to go back to. You surely did not enjoy your former life. No more I did, he said drearily. But this is an awful, temptatious life, hard to live. It's amazing hard to be fighting yourself all the time, ma'am. Indeed it is. You need a helper. It is so foolish in you to persist in fighting the battle all alone, when one who is mighty to save stands ready, waiting. When you will enlist under my captain and have him pledged to stand by you every moment, every moment, remember, you will find that more than half the fight is over. Hmm! said the poor fellow, with a sort of half-despairing doggedness coming over his face. Why don't he help me if he can and wants to? Mr. Jones, she said, bending nearer, and speaking in that peculiar, low, forceful tone, which carries weight with it, you say I have helped you a little. Could I have done it if you had not been willing to accept my help? Could I have forced it upon you against your will? A gleam of intelligence lighted the heavy face, as he said with some degree of hardiness. That's true enough, ma'am. No more you couldn't. As we were about to leave the car, the young lady drew from her pocket a slip of paper on which were a few printed words. She handed it to him with a bow and a smile. Was that a talisman? I asked her. An invitation, she said brightly. Will you have one? And she gave me a duplicate paper. It read, Gospel Temperance Meeting, City Hall, Tuesday Evening, Good Speakers, Good Music, Help for the Tempted, Hope for the Discouraged. Will you come? Do they come? I asked her. Scores of them, hundreds of them, poor fellows, little we know what they have to withstand. Look at that man! We had suddenly gotten ourselves very near to a crowd of men. Many of whom looked rough enough, though some were respectively dressed, and bore about them an air of superiority. We could hear touches of their conversation, or their urgings, for one man seemed to be the center. Oh, now, John, what's the use? said one. You will never keep it up in the world. A free life and a merry one is my motto. He'll get no work, shouted another, unless he votes the license ticket. There's a lot of them fellows, and they are in dead earnest, I tell you. I heard say they swore not a fellow as voted again them would have a day's work in this town. Lots of whiskey, John, if you vote for them, wheezed the lowest, most repulsive looking man in the crowd. They'll treat all day, and it will be as free as water. Starvation, if you don't, you know. Come, make up your mind to let the pledge go. Bad luck to it. Who cares for a baby pledge? Let's go in and take a drink to treat the resolution to be our own masters. We had paused on the outer edge of this small crowd. I, because I was afraid to venture through it, and Susan, apparently, because she was fascinated. She listened eagerly to every word, and just at the point where the poor fellow whom they called John seemed to waver and look about him as one who was conquered in spite of himself. To my astonishment, and no small dismay, she pushed boldly forward into the midst of the group, which suddenly parted on either side as if to let her pass. Mr. Smith, she said, what utter nonsense are these men talking to you? Why do you stop to listen to such folly? No work indeed. Do they suppose that all the men in this city who have work to give are owned by the rum-sellers and the rum-makers? No danger of any such calamity as idleness befalling honest men who are willing to work. Mr. Smith, I will see that you have employment by seven o'clock tomorrow morning at good wages, and I promise you will not have to sell your vote in order to get it. You have the right to vote according to your own good sense, without being at the command of any man. You should stand up for that right. I wish you would walk down to the bakery yonder with me. I want to send your sick wife something to tempt her appetite. Will you go? Yes, ma'am, I will, he said sturdily. And away we tramped, followed by the jeers of that crowd, some of whom were intoxicated and some of whom were sober enough to urge the others on. We heard the cries of petty-coat sales, old maid's apron strings, and other equally refined epithets. Mr. Smith, said Miss Susan Cooley, glancing back towards the crowd, what do you think of being found with a class of fellows who insult me? I think I'd like to shoot them, he said vindictively. No, don't do that, she answered quickly. Show yourself superior to them. Mr. Smith, I don't think your wife is quite so well this morning. She is very anxious over your troubles. If you should give up the struggle, I am afraid it would kill her. I won't give up. He said under his breath, and he said his teeth hard, as one getting ready for mortal combat. End of Section 8. Section 9 of Miss Priscilla Hunter and My Daughter Susan by Pansy. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. My Daughter Susan Chapter 4 Inconvenient Principles I want to go away down on Vesey Street, said Miss Susan, directly she had dispatched her man John with a basket of dainties to tempt the sick wife. Are you equal to that journey, or shall I put you in that uptown car and send you home? I am not to be sent home, I answered promptly. I am resolved to see this day out. It is one of the most astonishing days that I ever lived. I have some queer days, she said smiling, but this is a very quiet one. Did you see the look of disgust on the faces of those fellows when I pushed in? They expected me to be afraid, but I wasn't. I wish they had attempted violence, it would have been the salvation of John Smith. I should risk their having much influence over him after that. However, they were kind enough to insult me, and that will have a good effect. Poor John Smith. He is really very anxious about that sick wife of his. He knows that the thing she desires most on earth is to see him a reformed man. Let alone he would conquer. As it is, he needs the strength of an angel and the courage of a martyr. Isn't it an absolutely appalling thing to think of there being laws made, giving men the power to make a fiend of him and murder his wife? Sometimes that license business makes my blood just boil with rage, and at other times it is so sublimely ridiculous that I have to laugh. Once I went to a temperance lecture given by an illiterate sort of man, but he used one illustration which has clung to me ever since. He imagined a party of men standing on the shore of a dangerous stream, near the rapids, engaged in saving, or trying to save, poor fellows who were whirling down the angry waters to destruction. He described the eagerness with which those on shore worked, the superhuman strength which the effort required, and the horror of the failures. Suddenly it occurred to some man wiser than the rest to rush upstream and see what all this meant, why so many men were being thrown down towards the rapids. Behold, up on the bridge stood a man who was pitching them in, one after the other, with the most composed and decorous air imaginable. See here, called the other, stop that! What are you about? Don't you know enough to know that men are being drowned down here in the rapids? They have gone over dozens of them. We couldn't save them. Are you mad? Stop, I say! I won't, said the man in calm reply. My friend, I've got a license. I can make money at this business. If I didn't work at it, someone else would. I might as well have the money as anyone. I'm licensed according to law. You have no right to stop me. And in went a man. Now, of course, a critic would say that the cases were not parallel, that illustration was far fetched, and all that sort of thing. I don't care how far it was fetched. It sometimes seems to me that a few of us are just standing down by the rapids, trying to save a man here and there, while the law is at work licensing men to stand on the bridge and pitch them in. How I wish I could vote. What good would it do? The women would all vote just as their husbands do, and what would be gained? Now, my dear madame, you are always to remember that some of us haven't husbands. We at least could be supposed to have minds of our own. But what does that argument amount to? There is my father who votes the no-license ticket with all his strength. If women could vote, there would be my mother and my sister Alice and myself to make his vote count four. Now suppose for a moment that he voted for a license. If you can suppose so impossible and absurd a thing, don't you think you see my mother and my mother's daughters doing it? Well, but, said I, there is Joe Baker who lives down the lane from our house. He has a wife and four daughters, and he votes for a license and drinks all the liquor he can get. And do you imagine that they would cast five votes on his side? Let me tell you, you don't know them if you think so. I do, and I know that they would lie down and die in the attempt to reach the polls, if need be, and feel that they had not lived in vain if they had cast five votes for freedom from their life-curse. No, ma'am, those who professed that the drunkard's wives and sisters and mothers and daughters would vote to have rum sold, show plainly that they don't know what they are talking about. There are doubtless a few miserable exceptions, women whom rum has so degraded that they have lost their womanhood. But the masses, if you want to know how they would vote, visit them as I do, and hear them talk and pray. Do you believe that women ever will vote? I asked her, branching from the argument at hand, with the suddenness of a politician who had been worsted. Oh, I don't know, if we could have some new laws made by which women have the right to vote on such vital subjects as these, and yet not be voted for, not be eligible to office, you know, isn't that the word? For to most of the offices, neither nature nor culture leads them. I should like to vote. But if I've got to be made a senator of, or an assemblyman woman of, or submit to any of those degradations, why, I'm afraid I should want to wait a while. So far as the mere act of voting is concerned, I think an immense amount of twaddle has been written and spoken concerning it. I know some dainty little bits of flesh and blood, and silk and velvet, who lisp out that they wouldn't vote for the world, it would be stepping out of their fear, though immodest, you know, and degrading, calculated to destroy all the tenth of delicacy and refinement. And those same creations of refinement will dance half the night with men whom I won't recognize on the street. I can conceive of more immodest things than the slipping of a bit of paper into a box. This is Vezzi Street. I want to go into Mr. Selmser's office. Mr. Selmser, she said, the moment she caught sight of that dignified-looking gentleman, have you any vacant places for workmen? Mr. Selmser thought not. Well, now you ought to have. Are you employing temperance men? Have they all signed the pledge? Well, really, as to that Mr. Selmser did not know. There were no drunkards among his workmen. He never submitted to that. But whether they were pledge signers was extremely doubtful. The truth was, he didn't believe he had ever inquired. And you, a president of a temperance society! said Miss Susan, with just a touch of dignified surprise in her voice. Mr. Selmser, this thing needs looking after. The liquor party can afford to provide work for their men. They can afford, it seems, to buy their influence and their time and their souls by promising steady employment and good wages. Now the question is, what are we on our side about? Here is John Smith actually thrown out of employment because he has signed the pledge, and a chance for several others to be served in the same way. Are we going to stand that? Well, now Miss Susan, what can we do about it? Do about it? Why, see that they have work, of course. Is there nothing in this city that ought to be done? No public improvements that would furnish work and be a blessing to the people? I've passed at least three streets today that need to have rows of old buildings pulled down and decent ones put up. The hovels in which those people on Clark Street are living are a disgrace to the city. And the park needs work done in it, and there are miles of road that need repairing. Why, of course, all these things cost money, and so do poor houses and orphan asylums and prisons. To this rush of earnest words Mr. Selmser listened in a sort of embarrassed silence, and I could not help wondering whether Miss Susan knew, and whether he remembered, that most of the hovels on Clark Street were owned by himself. Presently he rallied. Well, but Miss Susan, there are so few of the people having the means who feel that way. We couldn't do one-hundredth part of what needs to be done if we attempted it. Then we clearly should not be responsible for the one-hundredth part, should we, but simply for the part that we could do. God will not call me to account for your undone work, Mr. Selmser, only my own. This could not have been a new idea to Mr. Selmser, yet he seemed struck with it, and I was not surprised to hear several weeks thereafter that a regular system had been put in operation, whereby any honest, unemployed man, who was a signer of a total abstinence pledge, could find employment and fair wages by applying to one of ten men located at convenient portions of the city. The immediate result of this conversation was that John Smith went to work the next morning at seven o'clock. We will have some lunch now, said Miss Susan, as we turned from Mr. Selmser's office. We are not likely to get home until after the dinner hour. Very well, I said. We are quite near a good place. Just around the corner on Mason Street is a restaurant where I occasionally lunch. I find very good accommodations. You can't mean the Mason parlors. I detected surprise not unmingled with indignation in the voice of my young friend, in spite of which I was obliged to meekly admit that I did mean the Mason parlors. Excuse me, she said decidedly, but I can't lunch there. Of course you do not know that the back room belongs to them and that they retail wines and beer, and indeed anything in that line which is called for. They get no custom from me. But can you find a restaurant where something of that sort isn't sold? Yes, some, one at least, several for that matter, but the one nearest to us is on Lincoln Street, not a very stylish place. The fact is they can't afford to be stylish because they are not supported by rum and because temperance people do not go out of their way to patronize them. But things are clean and neat. Isn't it nearly half a mile away, I asked, still speaking meekly, for I was getting some new ideas. Yes, some it is, but the streetcar that we can take at the corner passes their door. Five cents and fifteen minutes will take us there. It isn't so convenient as the Mason parlors you see. I think we often find principles inconvenient, don't you? To this question I made a sort of muttering reply, for I began to be dimly conscious that hitherto my principles had not been so inconvenient as they ought to have been. On two other occasions during that memorable day did I venture to offer advice with unexpected results. As we were hastening from one line of cars to another I aspired the sign, Burke's Oyster Depot. Aware that he kept the best oysters in the city, I asked, are you mindful of your mother's commission about oysters? Here is Burke's. We never buy at Burke's, she answered promptly. He is a liquor dealer, you know, as well as an oyster dealer. I am ever so sorry, for I like his oysters better than any that we find, which is another wise thing that our temperance grocers submit to. The idea of letting a liquor dealer keep the best oysters in town—sometimes it really seems to me that the brains of the city are in Satan's hands, and he certainly knows how to manage them. I said nothing in reply, for the reason that my eye had caught sight of some unusually fine looking oranges. There, I said, you were looking for nice oranges, you will see none nicer than those, I am sure. Miss Susan stopped short in the street and gave me a curious, troubled look for a moment, then she laughed outright. Are you in that last name person's employ today, my dear madame? She asked. Or is it pure accident that you continually direct my attention to restaurants, oyster depots, groceries, etc., where the main article of dependence is rum? Is that a rum establishment, too? I asked in surprise. How do you find those things out? They have no sign. I never even thought of it before. Which is precisely the difficulty with two-thirds of our temperance men and women, she answered, with kindling eyes. They don't think, and indeed many of them won't think. It is not pure thoughtlessness in all cases, either. It is, well, what shall I call it? It looks wonderfully like indifference. It is more convenient to trade at a rum-sellers, or he keeps better articles, or he is second cousin to someone's brother's uncle's cousin's friend. Some reason can be found why it is best to patronize him in spite of his want of principle. Indeed, I meet with not a few women who do not descend to particulars, but content themselves with that favorite argument among a certain class of Americans. Fiddle-sticks. And in some respects it is really the most unanswerable argument that can be offered. Because, after you have given what you consider to be an earnest and practical reason on the other side, what can you say to a woman who tosses her head and curls up her nose and answers fiddle-sticks? I tell you, dear friend, it is a matter of great encouragement that the temperance cause has made the advances which it has when you think of the namby-pamby-ism of one-third of its nominal advocates. End of Section 9 Section 10 of Miss Priscilla Hunter and My Daughter Susan by Pansy. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. My Daughter Susan Chapter 5 A Party Against a Party During the time that we were taking our lunch, which I ought to say in passing we took on Lincoln Street, I was revolving in my mind some of Miss Susan's last statements and wondering just what they meant. At last my thoughts shaped themselves into question. Why aren't the temperance people as a rule doing about as much as they can to help along the cause? At least so far as they have brains to see what helps it. Oh, I don't know. One hates to think that all the trouble is due to lack of brains. I believe that man was right, whoever he was, who said that half the people in the world would rather be called wicked than weak. But you don't know how absurd some things are. The arguments and excuses advanced by some who would like to appear consistent would perfectly amaze you. Girls are worse than boys. I think boys like to keep a show of common sense on their side when they talk, but it seems to make no difference with girls. Some of us tried to have them show that Mr. McIntosh of the New Distillery, you know, that he must get into respectable business if he wanted to keep respectable company. And one of our young Mrs. said, It isn't as if he sold liquor by the glass, you know, his business is strictly wholesale. He never sells less than a barrel full. What do you think of that for an argument in favor of a man's position? Last winter two or three young ladies in society would not sign our total abstinence pledge because they couldn't allow their names to appear in such a conspicuous place. And those very ladies were named in the city papers a few weeks before on the occasion of their being at a fancy dress party. Their very costumes, down to minute points, were described. Isn't that consistency? Another girl wouldn't sign because she did not approve of making such solemn promises. She said so anyway, but she was married this fall, and it seemed to me that the promises she made were quite as solemn as those which the temperance pledge requires. Then there is another thing that tries my patience wonderfully. For the sake of the cause I wish it might become fashionable to attend temperance meetings. It is absolutely a disgrace to our city that we cannot get a respectable audience of churchgoing people out to our temperance meetings. The most trivial excuses are made, ludicrous, if they were not sad. Nothing new can be said about temperance, one of our businessmen said to me last week. Don't see any use in having meetings. Now, so far as that argument proves anything, it proves too much. Do you think that there is anything very new to be said about the way of salvation? Others find fault about the speakers. Some of them are so dull, and some of them make grammatical errors, and some of them speak too long. Oh, nonsense! Think of Christian people talking in that way. Men don't act so about politics, as if the object in having temperance meetings was to please the intellect or cultivate the aesthetic. To be sure, one would rather have good speakers than poor ones, and I think we ought to try for the best talent there is. But why can't Christian people, at least, see that they have no right to consult their inclinations? That the object is to save souls and bodies, and that in every conceivable place and at every possible time, when an opportunity is offered, it is their duty to put themselves where they will be sure to be counted on the right side. We were on the street again by this time, and my valuable friend interrupted herself to say, This is Mr. Holland's place of business. I must see him a minute. He was a young man of different stamp from any whom we had seen that day, and Miss Susan's manner of enlisting him was noticeably different from that which he had used with the others. Mr. Holland, will you help us? This was her first earnest sentence. It was just the sort of sentence to interest him. Then she told of the evening's plans and of the efforts underway to control them. We need your help, she said earnestly. Some of those young men, you know, have little self-control. They need to be led. Will you help to lead them in the right direction? I will try, he answered her, with flushed face and firmly set mouth. I will second any effort that you desire to make. Miss Susan, you can depend upon me. He received very earnest thanks. No sooner were we outside of his office than my friend said with satisfaction in her voice. That is splendid! Mr. Holland is one of our reformed men, and I am always a little bit worried about him, just for the reason that he is so strong in his own strength. He resents the slightest hint that any place may be dangerous to him. But when it comes to helping others, that is another matter. I was afraid he would have a suspicion that I feared for him. Your temperance work doesn't always admit of the exact truth, does it? I asked, more for the sake of hearing how she would answer than because I was so very dull. She flashed an inquiring glance at me, as she replied promptly. It doesn't always admit of telling all you know to everybody any more than most other projects of importance do. But if you think I did not tell the exact truth to Mr. Holland, you mistake. Some of those young men are much weaker than he is, and they need his help. That is not saying that he, too, is not in need of help. Yet, since to say that is going to hinder rather than help him, why should I say it? We were passing Mrs. Chester's elegant mansion as she spoke, and that suggested to me a change of subject. I wonder that you are not engaged to Mrs. Chester this evening. She has a reception, you know. Yes, I am, but I am never engaged to Mrs. Chester nowadays, and I do what I can to prevent other people from being. I dread her influence over a certain class more than I do that of any rum-cellar among them. Why pray? Because she is more dangerous. Besides, it is an embarrassing place to visit. Would you like to take tea, for instance, with a person who was in the habit of decorating her table with a dozen different dishes, which you from conscientious scruples would have to refuse? I really think that woman is more talented in her line than any one I know. She would do for a walking cookbook. Jellies of all flavors—peaches, pears, sauces, pies, cake, even innocent-looking custards—are dangerous articles to touch from her table. I really didn't know it was possible to serve up Satan's favorite mixture in so many ways until I knew Mrs. Chester. I think she must spend her time in planning new dishes that she can make into elegant little traps for catching the unwary. She has done what she could towards ruining the young men of our city, and it just enrages me to think how powerless she would be if the young ladies of her set would take the position on this subject that one has a right to expect of them. But we are improving. One by one they drop out of her circle. There are several now whom she invites in vain, and she knows the reason why. How late it is! Did you imagine it? This matter has taken more time than I thought it would. But we have things in train now. I believe we can go down to Roberts's and have a look at the new pictures if you would like. To this plan I eagerly agreed. But as we were turning the corner, a hurried gentleman ran against us, and his hasty—I beg your pardon—instantly changed into. Oh, Miss Susan, I am glad it is you. We need you. There is trouble ahead. What trouble? Our boys at the school, twenty of them, are to be invited to a gathering this evening at Turner's, an impromptu affair, all the merrier they will think, a moonlight ride, and all that sort of thing. There will be plenty of wine. Several of our evening school boys vote for the first time in the coming election. It is important you see to pay them some attention. You don't have school tomorrow evening? No, I thought it was going to be especially inconvenient. But if I could have foreseen such a thing as this, I should have tried to push the school without regard to convenience. I heard of this just now by accident. The boys are to be invited as a school in order to catch them all. Is there anything that we can do at this late hour? Miss Susan thought, looked at her watch, and was silent for the space of a minute, then said briskly. Why, yes, of course. The boys need entertainment, do they? I don't know, but that is a good idea. But it becomes us to see that they have it in a less objectionable way. I'll give a party, Mr. Stuart. Will you give the invitations for me, at once? Tell each boy that he is to invite the young lady with whom he would like best to spend the evening to accompany him. When? asked Mr. Stuart, surprise and admiration, struggling together on his face. Why, this evening, to be sure. And you must hasten to be ahead of the others. And Mr. Stuart, will you, after you have delivered the invitations, see Frank Holden, and tell him we want his help at once? Tell him to come to my home, please. Where are we? Oh, yes, there is the confectioners that I want, right across the street. Oh, we'll have a charming party. You may come, Mr. Stuart, for a little while. Not long, you know. We don't want any dignity or propriety this evening. I'm very sorry, she added, turning to me. But I'm afraid we shall have to give up the art gallery today, for you see we must hurry home and get ready for a party. Mr. Stuart, when it is convenient, you may thank those people down at Turner's for their prospective entertainment. It has given me a new idea. It is not the first time I have thought that Satan's adversaries have some very good plans. Mr. Stuart looked after her as she made a sudden dash towards the confectioners, and as I lingered to have a word with him on my own account, he said, That girl is worth forty-five temperance lectures and a dozen temperance conventions. Now for home, Ms. Susan said, as she turned with a satisfied air from the elegant counter, where she had been giving royal orders for an evening entertainment. I had been musing while I watched her, and now, giving voice to my thoughts, I said, After all, there are very few people who can do these things, they haven't the money. I know it, she said quickly. The money is Father's part. He has the money, and I have the time, so we combine our forces. He earns the money, and I spend it. But don't you know there are a hundred ways of working? Some people can give temperance lectures, and some can write temperance books, and some can employ men who are trying to reform. And some people can open their homes for the entertainment of tempted young men. And some people can make their kitchens neat and sweet for the help of the tempted husband or son. And some can study how to make the mince pies rich and juicy and delightful without the aid of a drop of brandy. Oh, there are so many ways, ways that don't need money at all. In point of fact, my friend, do you realize that this last venture of mine takes the first cent of money which I have spent for the cause today? And as for parties, other people give them temperance people, too. The question is, why don't they consecrate them? It doesn't seem to me that it is money or time or strength or talent that is lacking. It is the consecrated heart, a heart that is given first to Christ, and secondly to His work, whatever form it may take, or whatever may be the door that opens. Do with thy might whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, is our commission, you know, and in order to find things we have to work for them. People talk sometimes about ambition, as if it were a wicked thing. I think it is a misdirected ambition which causes trouble, don't you? By this time we had reached her father's house, and as she ascended the steps, she turned to me with her whole face aglow with feeling. I declare to you, she said, that I have an all-absorbing, a consuming ambition. It is to have the king put his hand on mine and say, well done, good and faithful servant. I want to be a good servant. I shall not be content without the commendation promised to those who faithfully serve. My ambition craves it. Now we must go to work. I mean that those boys shall have the nicest time tonight that they ever had in their lives. You are to help, my friend. You are to make some perfectly exquisite bouquets. Do you suppose many people who have flowers realize their refining influence on young men? I wonder if people realize that they can arrange flowers in such a manner as to glorify the Lord of the Garden. Such remembrances make glowing work of life I think. Who sweeps a room as for thy law makes that and the action fine. You know I am glad the grand old author said that. And yet an older and grander author said it better. Whosoever giveth a cup of cold water, you know. And then he intensified it with his wonderful inasmuch. Don't you love that word? Inasmuch as ye did it unto the least of these, my brethren, ye did it unto me. Think of that. I tell you, I must have that reward. Does anybody doubt but that she will one day hear the grand voice say, well done, good and faithful servant. Thou hast been faithful over a few things. I will make thee ruler over many things. Enter thou into the joy of thy Lord. End of Section 10, End of Miss Priscilla Hunter and My Daughter Susan by Pansy