"It's such an example," said the latter. "Now we've got you the others
will follow like sheep. You will be a bright lamp in the darkness."

"Wot's good enough for me ought to be good enough for them," said Mr.
Billing, modestly. "They'd better not let me catch--"

"H'sh! H'sh!" breathed Mr. Purnip, tilting his hat and wiping his bald,
benevolent head.

"I forgot," said the other, with something like a sigh. "No more
fighting; but suppose somebody hits me?"

"Turn the other cheek," replied Mr. Purnip.

"They won't hit that; and when they see you standing there smiling at
them--"

"After being hit?" interrupted Mr. Billing.

"After being hit," assented the other, "they'll be ashamed of themselves,
and it'll hurt them more than if you struck them."

"Let's 'ope so," said the convert; "but it don't sound reasonable. I can
hit a man pretty 'ard. Not that I'm bad-tempered, mind you; a bit quick,
p'r'aps. And, after all, a good smack in the jaw saves any amount of
argufying."

Mr. Purnip smiled, and, as they walked along, painted a glowing picture
of the influence to be wielded by a first-class fighting-man who refused
to fight. It was a rough neighbourhood, and he recognized with sorrow