Nanna lost no time in sending Jim Coates a verbal message as to Mrs. Waring's promise. This was followed later on by a note from that individual herself, asking Jim to see her friend the ganger, and ascertain if the use of one of the sheds would be granted for a Bible meeting on Sunday afternoons.

The very next evening Jim paid another visit to Mrs. Waring's establishment, this time to give report number two. He little thought the night he came with some of his drinking companions to have a look at the woman whose religion "cost her summat," that he would ever be a welcome guest in her parlour, or even wish to be.

Jim had already enlisted the sympathies of his three Christian mates in his scheme. Dick was especially taken up with it, and the two had lost no time in making all the arrangements they could.

The ganger had done all in his power to help, but had not hesitated in uttering most doleful prophecies. "She's a little brick, that she is; but they'll either send her to Coventry or Bedlam." Jim repeated all the ganger had said, feeling it only right that Mrs. Waring should know the risks she was running.

But Phebe only laughed, quietly remarking: "We shall have more on our side than those that are against us." Jim wondered very much at her reckoning up, but said nothing. He had not learnt yet to include the angels in his calculations.

The whole company joined in discussing the plans—the two young men, Bessie and Nanna.

"I don't see how you are going to walk those four miles," said Bessie; "it is that which troubles me, for you are not a good walker at any time."

"I did think of that myself," said Phebe, "but if it is right for me to go God will give me the strength."

"Hear, hear," said Nanna, clapping her rough little hands; "that's what I call the right note."

"You stop a bit," said Jim mysteriously. "Dick and me have thought about that; you wait and you'll see."

Then he went on to describe how they were going to fit the shed up and erect temporary seats. "But Dick and me want to know, Mrs. Waring, if it was a fine day, if you'd be willing to have the meeting out of doors? More of the men would listen if you would. Dick says if you sat with your back to the shed it would be a sounding-board for you, like as they have in churches."

"That would be a good deal better than a stuffy old shed," put in Bessie, to which opinion Phebe also agreed.

Punctually at a quarter to two on the next Sunday afternoon the little party was ready to start on its expedition. Nanna whispered to Phebe: "'Fear thou not, for I am with thee: be not dismayed, for I am thy God; I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of My righteousness.'"

Nanna, with little Jack in her arms, and Janie by her side, stood at the street-door to wave their farewells. Prompted by Nanna, Jack screamed out: "Bye-bye, mummy; come back happy."

Jim Coates, all radiant in a new black-and-white check suit, and hair well oiled, met them at the bottom of the street to act as conductor.

"I say, Mr. Coates," exclaimed Bessie, "where's that carriage and pair of greys you promised Mrs. Waring? I wonder you are so forgetful."

"You wait a while, miss, and you'll see I'm not so forgetful as you think," with a comically solemn look on his face.

"Did you ever see such a swell—a real Beau Brummel, if you like!" whispered Bessie to Phebe. "He looks like 'a peacock with a wooden leg,' if you like. But he's 'a dear' for all that."

When they had got less than half-way, lo! there, in the centre of the road, stood Dick, holding a tricycle.

"There!" exclaimed Jim, with a triumphant smile, "there's the carriage and here's the greys," pointing to himself and Dick.

A Bible was strapped on the handle-bar, on which also was hung a large motto-card, bearing the words "God is Love."

"I thought," explained Jim, "these 'ud show as how you weren't riding for pleasure on Sunday."

"You are quite right," said Phebe, feeling deeply touched by this exhibition, not only of thoughtful love, but of loyalty to God, "but I have never learnt to ride!"

"Oh, that don't matter, ma'am," said Dick, coming to the help of his mate. "Jim an' me's a-going' to push you—at least one of us is, but we hasn't fought it out yet which is a-going to do it." These men were real heroes—truer than any who have ever trod a battlefield: they knew right well the pushing of that machine meant months of ill-natured chaff and persecution.

As they neared the end of their journey, one of the men, who had been on the look-out for them, quickly took the word to the camp: "Gentleman Dick and Red Ribbon and their swells are coming along. Come on, I say, and let's have a fine old spree!"

Quite a little crowd gathered close by the shed to witness the arrival. Jim and Dick were greeted with some very rude gibes, but the other members of the party escaped any personal remarks.

With the same quickness and tact Phebe had shown in the management of her business, she set about this new work. Taking their seats in front of the shed, Phebe and Bessie began to sing, Reynolds and Jones standing close by, while Dick and Jim stood on each side as a kind of defence. The concertina was a great help, and when Bessie sang alone it formed a nice soft accompaniment. The men were quite taken off their guard, and thoroughly enjoyed it. "Give us some more, missis," they called out more than once.

A little later on Phebe said: "If you don't mind, friends, sitting down on the grass, I'll tell you a story while my friend has a rest," and a good number of them did so. They hadn't the slightest idea, some of them, that they were attending "a meeting." First, with a story from her own girlhood, and then one told in her own words, from the life of Jesus, she got their closest attention. When one at the close called out, "How much are you paid for this, missis?" more than one tuft of grass was thrown at him, with several unparliamentary bits of advice as to what he was to do with his mouth.

After more singing they asked her to talk to them again, and she did so, this time pressing home one or two truths, and then she prayed. Many of the men had never heard a prayer since they prayed at their mother's knee. Not many eyes were closed, but a wonderful silence fell upon that group of rough fellows as they listened to that "little woman" talking to God.

"Will you come again, missis?" asked one.

"Yes, I will, if you will let me. And please tell your wives, those of you who have them living here—will you?—how much I should like to see them, too. If it rains we should have to go into the shed—would you mind that?"

"No, why should we?" they answered. "Not if the singing girl comes too."

The four visitors went into the shed before starting home, just to see what it was like, and there a surprise met them. On a stool stood four cups and saucers, a jug of milk, a packet of sugar, and some biscuits. Presently Dick came in, carrying a teapot. This was all his own particular bit of work. He had made a fire at the back of the shed and boiled his kettle there, giving a boy a penny to stand guard over it.

The journey home was accomplished in the same manner as the outward had been, and all four had to tell Nanna that they had really had a very enjoyable time. The most enjoyable part to Phebe had been a talk she had with a young fellow who had walked part of the way back with them.

"I was the only useless one there, Mrs. Colston," said Reynolds. "My manly protecting strength was not required at all."

Just like a woman with a dear old motherly heart, Mrs. Colston had ready for them a specially nice tea.

"Is you tum home happy, mummy?" asked dear little Jack, as he gave his mother some welcome hugs.

"Yes, darling, very happy."

"Why is you vevy happy, mummy?"

"Because, darling, I've tried to be obedient."

But the thought of why his mother had to be obedient was too perplexing for him, so he turned to the easier task of counting the gooseberries in his little pie.

Just before entering the town the little party had been met by Stephen Collins, who again passed by with a bow and a smile. But no smile was in his heart. "Others can stand by her and help her, but I must do nothing—not even defend her as she ought to be defended. God help me!"

The following Sunday afternoon the same programme was carried out, with just a few additions. A few women were present, some of the men learnt a chorus; two women forcibly took the tea arrangements out of Dick's hands, the remark being, "What's a great yardstick like you know about making tea!" and instead of one man accompanying the little party on its way homewards there were four. The result of all this was that Bessie informed Nanna that "things were humming more than ever."

If the men had been asked to attend a service there would have been nothing short of a mutiny; as it was they had done so unawares, and got accustomed to it before awaking to the fact. When they did a few rebelled, but the majority submitted to fate. After that second Sunday the feeling of extreme nervousness which had at first taken possession of Phebe passed away. She was able now to look upon the work as really hers, given by God, and began to study it in that light. It was imperative that she should look ahead. The railway-works would continue quite another twelve months. It was all very well to hold the meetings out-of-doors during the fine weather, but what about the winter-time! Would the men be really willing to come into the shed, and if even they were willing to endure the discomfort, what about heating and lighting arrangements?

What was really needed, she told herself, was an iron room, which the men could use as a club-room during the week. How much would such a room cost?

Advertisements were scanned. Yes, a second-hand one could be obtained, with all necessary fittings, for a hundred pounds.

Could she afford to spend that amount just then? Would it be a wise expenditure? Just then she was about to open a branch business in which Jones was to be put as manager, and from which it was hoped to still further enlarge the country trade. This, of course, meant a considerable strain upon the exchequer, and it would only be with difficulty, in spite of her success, that a hundred pounds could be spared.

"Well," she said to herself, "I must just leave the matter for a while, and wait and watch for the pointing Finger."

On that first Sunday afternoon, unknown to Phebe and her little company, only excepting Dick, the ganger had been an attentive listener, standing at the back of the shed, close by Dick's fire, and with him, equally attentive, was one of the contractors, a gentlemanly-looking man.

It was the ganger who had told the contractor of the meeting, and he was there partly out of curiosity and partly out of fear lest there might be some rather rough "horse-play."

He had taken a house in the neighbourhood for two years, furnishing it with every comfort. He was by no means a Christian, having for the last few years been given over body and soul to just two things—money-making and pleasure.

Lunch over, it suddenly occurred to him he might as well go to the works as sit by the fire reading a newspaper. Maybe there was a little hope somewhere in his heart that he might get a spice of enjoyment out of the fun going on.

But in all that gathering there was no more attentive listener than Hugh Black, the contractor. He stayed till the little party started on its homeward journey, and then stood where he could watch them.

"I say, Greaves," turning to the ganger, "yonder little woman is plucky, if you like. There's not many who would have won that lot of fellows as she has done this afternoon. And didn't she hold them! I never heard or saw anything like it in my life before. What brought her here, do you suppose?"

Greaves muttered something about not knowing.

"There's no money in it, that's certain; and it cannot be for popularity among her set, for I should think a good many folks would blame her for it."

"I know what my missis would say there was in it," the ganger plucked up courage enough to say.

"And what's that?" still with eyes fixed on the tricycle, held on either side the handle-bar by Dick and the fresh addition to the party.

"She'd say as how it was to please God."

"H'm." Then turning sharply round to the ganger, he exclaimed, "I say, Greaves; do you profess to be religious?"

The ganger grew very red. "Not like she is," pointing towards Phebe.

"I thought not. If you had, it would have come out before now. Well, I shall not soon forget that little woman."

As an earthly flower grows towards perfection its progress is of no help whatever to any other blossom. Even its fragrance, scattered so lavishly on the air, adds nothing to the perfume of another. Flowers of the Kingdom know nothing of this isolation—can know nothing. The growth of each in grace aids the growth of others.