“Hear, hear, guv’nor,” said a bibulous old costermonger, encouragingly.  “Let’s hear all about it.”

“So you shall,” Brooks said.  “Now listen.  I dare say there are a good many of you who go up in the West End sometimes, and see those big houses and the way people spend their money there, who come back to your own houses here, and think that things aren’t exactly dealt out square.  Isn’t that so?”

There was a hearty and unanimous assent.

“Well,” Brooks continued, “it may surprise you to hear that a few of us who have a little money up there have come to the same conclusion.  We’d like to do our little bit towards squaring things up.  It may not be much, but lots more may come of it.”

A modified but a fairly cordial assent.

“We haven’t money to give away—­not much of it, at any rate,” Brooks continued.

“More bloomin’ tracks,” the costermonger interrupted, and spat upon the floor.  “Fair sickens me, it does.”

“As for tracts,” Brooks continued, calmly, “I don’t think I’ve ever read one in my life, and I don’t want to.  We haven’t such a thing in the place, and I shouldn’t know where to go for them, and though that gentleman down there with a herring sticking out of his pocket seems to have done himself pretty well already, I’d rather stand him a glass of beer than offer him such a thing.”

A roar of laughter, during which a wag in the crowd quietly picked the costermonger’s pocket of the fish with a deftness born of much practice, and sent it flying over the room.  It was promptly returned, and found a devious way back to its owner in a somewhat dusty and mauled condition.

“There is just one thing we have to ask for and insist upon,” Brooks continued.  “When you come to us for help, tell us the truth.  If you’ve been drunk all the week and haven’t earned any money, well, we may help you out with a Sunday dinner.  If you’ve been in prison and won’t mind owning up to it, we shan’t send you away for that reason.  We want your women to come and bring us your children, that we can have a look at them, tell us how much you all make a week between you, and what you need most to make you a bit more comfortable.  And we want your husbands to come and tell us where they work, and what rent they pay, and if they haven’t any work, and can’t get it, we’ll see what we can do.  I tell you I don’t care to start with whether you’re sober and industrious, or idle, or drunkards.  We’ll give any one a leg-up if we can.  I don’t say we shall keep that up always, because of course we shan’t.  But we’ll give any one a fair chance.  Now do you want to ask any questions?”

A pallid but truculent-looking young man pushed himself to the front.

“’Ere, guv’nor!” he said.  “Supposing yer was to stand me a coat—­I ain’t ’ad one for two months—­should I ’ave to come ’ere on a Sunday and sing bloomin’ hymns?”

“If you did,” Brooks answered him, “you’d do it by yourself, and you’d stand a fair chance of being run out.  There’s going to be no preaching or hymn-singing here.  Those sorts of things are very well in their 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.”