When Sophie came home that evening, Samuel had mastered himself. He told her the story without a tremor in his voice. And this was well, for he was not prepared for the paroxysm of emotion with which the child received the news. Miss Gladys had been the last of Samuel's illusions; but she was the only one that Sophie had ever had. The child had made her life all over out of the joy of working for her; and now, hearing the story of her treatment of Samuel, she was almost beside herself with grief.

Samuel was frightened at her violence. “Listen, Sophie,” he said, putting his arm around her. “We must not forget our duty.”

“I could never go back there again!” exclaimed the child wildly. “I should die if I had to see her again!”

“I don't mean that,” said the other quickly—seeking to divert her thoughts. “But you must remember what I have to do; and you must help me.”

He went on to tell her of his plan to fight for the possession of St. Matthew's Church. “And we must not give way to bitterness,” he said; “it would be a very wicked thing if we did it from anger.”

“But how can you help it?” she cried.

“It is hard,” said Samuel; “but I have been wrestling with myself. We must not hate these people. They have done evil to us, but they do not realize it—they are poor human beings like the rest of us.”

“But they are bad, selfish people!” exclaimed the child.

“I have thought it all out,” said he. “I have been walking the streets all day, thinking about it. And I will not let myself feel anything but pity for them. They have done me wrong, but it is nothing to the wrong they have done themselves.”

“Oh, Samuel, you are so good!” exclaimed Sophie; and he winced—because that was what Miss Gladys had said to him.

“I had to settle it with myself,” he explained. “I have got to carry on a fight against them, and I have to be sure that I'm not just venting my spite.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Sophie.

“I am going to put the facts before the congregation of the church. If they will do nothing, I am going to the people.”

“But how, Samuel?”

“I am going to call a meeting. See, I have written this.”

And he took from his pocket a piece of paper, on which he had printed, in capital letters, as follows:

TO THE MEMBERS OF ST. MATTHEWS!

“There is corruption in the church. Members of its vestry have bribed the government of the town. They are robbing the people. The vestry has refused me a hearing and turned me out of the church. I appeal to the congregation. Next Wednesday evening, at eight o'clock, I will address a meeting on the vacant lot opposite the church, and will tell what I know. SAMUEL PRESCOTT.”

“And what are you going to do with that?” asked Sophie in wonder.

“I am going to have it printed on little slips, and give them out to the people when they are coming out of the church to-morrow morning.”

“Oh, Samuel!” gasped the child.

“I have to do it,” he said.

“But, Samuel, everyone will come—people from all over town.”

“I can't help that,” he answered. “I can't afford to hire a hall; and they wouldn't let me speak in the church.”

“But can you get this printed so quickly?”

“I don't know,” said he. “I must find some one.”

Sophie clapped her hands suddenly. “Oh, I know just the very thing!” she cried. “Friedrich Bremer has a printing press!”

“What!”

“Yes. His father used to print things. They will tell us.” And so, without stopping to eat, the two hurried off to the Bremer family; and mother and father and all the children sat and listened in astonishment while Samuel told his tale. Friedrich was thrilling with excitement; and old Johann's red face grew fiery.

“Herr Gott!” he cried. “I vas that vay myself once!”

“And then will you help me to get them printed?” asked Samuel.

“Sure!” replied the other. “I will do it myself. Vy did I go through the Commune?” And so the whole family adjourned to the attic, and the little printing outfit was dragged out from under the piles of rubbish.

“I used it myself,” said the old carpet designer. “But vhen I come here they give me a varning, and I haf not dared. For two years I haf not even been to the meetings of the local.”

“Of the what?” asked Samuel.

“I am a Socialist,” explained Mr. Bremer. And Samuel gave a start. Ought he to accept any help from Socialists? But meantime Friedrich was sorting out the type, and his father was inspecting Samuel's copy.

“You must make it vith a plenty of paragraphs,” he said; “and exclamation points, too. Then they vill read it.”

“They'll read it!” said Friedrich grimly.

“How shall we print it?” asked the father; and the children rushed downstairs and came back with some sheets of writing paper, and a lot of brown wrapping paper. They sat on the floor and folded and cut it, while Friedrich set the type. And this was the way of the printing of Samuel's first manifesto.

“Can you make a speech?” Mrs. Bremer asked. “Won't you be frightened?”

To which Samuel answered gravely: “I don't think so. I shall be thinking about what I have to say.”

It was late at night when the two children went home, with three hundred copies of the revolutionary document carefully wrapped up from view; and they were so much excited by the whole affair that they had actually forgotten about Miss Gladys! It was not until he tried to go to sleep that her image came back to him, and all his blasted hopes arose to mock at him. What a fool he had been! How utterly insane all his fantasies seemed to him now! So he passed another sleepless night, and it was not till daylight that he fell into a troubled slumber.

He had to control his impatience until after eleven o'clock, the hour of the service at the church. Sophie wished to go with him and share his peril, but he would not consent to this. He would not be able to give the manifesto to everyone, but he could reach enough—the others would hear about it! So, a full hour before the end of the service, he took up his post across the street, his heart beating furiously. He was feeling, it must be confessed, a good deal like a dynamiter or an assassin. The weather was warm, and the door of the church was open, so that he could hear the booming voice of Dr. Vince. The sound of the organ brought tears into his eyes—he loved the organ, and he was not to be allowed to listen to it! At last came the end; the sounds of the choir receded, and the assassin moved over to a strategic position. And then came the first of the congregation—of all persons, the Olympian Mr. Curtis!

“Will you take one of these, sir?” said Samuel, with his heart in his throat. And Mr. Curtis who was mopping his forehead with his handkerchief, started as if he had seen a ghost. “Boy, what are you doing?” he cried; but Samuel had darted away, trying to give out the slips of paper to the people as they came out at both doors. He was quite right in saying that everybody would know about it. The people took the slips and read them, and then they stopped to stare and exclaim to one another, so that there was a regular blockade at the doors of the church. By the time that a score of the slips had been given out the members had had time to get their wits back, and then there was an attempt to interfere.

“This is an outrage!” cried Mr. Curtis, and tried to grab Samuel by the arm; but the boy wrenched himself loose and darted around the corner, to where a stream of people had come out of the side door.

“Take one!” he exclaimed. “Pass it along! Let everyone know!” And so he got rid of a score or two more of his slips. And then, keeping a wary lookout for Mr. Curtis or any other of the vestrymen, he ran around in front again, and circled on the edge of the rapidly gathering throng, giving away several of the dodgers wherever a hand was held out. “Give them to everyone!” he kept repeating in his shrill voice.

“The evil-doers must be turned out of the church!”

Then suddenly out of the crowd pushed Mr. Hamerton, breathless and red in the face. “Samuel!” he cried, pouncing upon him, “this cannot go on!”

“But it must go on!” replied the boy. “Let me go! Take your hands off me!” And he raised his voice in a wild shriek. “There are thieves in the church of Christ!”

In the scuffle the dodgers were scattered on the ground; and Mr. Hamerton stooped to pick them up. Samuel seized what he could and darted to the side door again, where there were more people eager to take them. And so he got rid of the last he had. And for the benefit of those whom he still saw emerging, he raised his hands and shouted: “There are men in the vestry of this church who have bribed the city council of Lockmanville! I mean to expose them in a meeting across the street on Wednesday night!” And then he turned, and dodging an outraged church member who sought to lay hold of him, he sped like a deer down the street.

He had made his appeal to the congregation!