[Illustration:  “’I found ‘im inside the Horse and Groom,’ he said.”]

He shook his head in great regret at the speechless Mr. Vickers, and, pushing him inside the house, followed close behind.

“Look here, Bill Russell, I don’t want any of your larks,” said Miss Vickers, recovering herself.

“Larks?” repeated Mr. Russell, with an injured air.  “I’m a teetotaler, and it’s my duty to look after brothers that go astray.”

He produced a pledge-card from his waistcoat-pocket and, smoothing it out on the table, pointed with great pride to his signature.  The date of the document lay under the ban of his little finger.

“I’d just left the Temperance Hall,” continued the zealot.  “I’ve been to three meetings in two days; they’d been talking about the new barmaid, and I guessed at once what brother Vickers would do, an’ I rushed off, just in the middle of brother Humphrey’s experiences—­and very interesting they was, too—­to save him.  He was just starting his second pot, and singing in between, when I rushed in and took the beer away from him and threw it on the floor.”

“I wasn’t singing,” snarled Mr. Vickers, endeavouring to avoid his daughter’s eye.

“Oh, my dear friend!” said Mr. Russell, who had made extraordinary progress in temperance rhetoric in a very limited time, “that’s what comes o’ the drink; it steals away your memory.”

Miss Vickers trembled with wrath.  “How dare you go into public-houses after I told you not to?” she demanded, stamping her foot.

“We must ’ave patience,” said Mr. Russell, gently.  “We must show the backslider ’ow much happier he would be without it.  I’ll ’elp you watch him.”

“When I want your assistance I’ll ask you for it,” said Miss Vickers, tartly.  “What do you mean by shoving your nose into other people’s affairs?”

“It’s—­it’s my duty to look after fallen brothers,” said Mr. Russell, somewhat taken aback.

“What d’ye mean by fallen?” snapped Miss Vickers, confronting him fiercely.

“Fallen into a pub,” explained Mr. Russell, hastily; “anybody might fall through them swing-doors; they’re made like that o’ purpose.”

“You’ve fell through a good many in your time,” interposed Mr. Vickers, with great bitterness.

“I know I ’ave,” said the other, sadly; “but never no more.  Oh, my friend, if you only knew how ’appy I feel since I’ve give up the drink!  If you only knew what it was to ’ave your own self-respeck!  Think of standing up on the platform and giving of your experiences!  But I don’t despair, brother; I’ll have you afore I’ve done with you.”

Mr. Vickers, unable to contain himself, got up and walked about the room.  Mr. Russell, with a smile charged with brotherly love, drew a blank pledge-card from his pocket and, detaining him as he passed, besought him to sign it.

“He’ll do it in time,” he said in a loud whisper to Selina, as his victim broke loose.  “I’ll come in of an evening and talk to him till he does sign.”