"We don't want to interfere with anybody's comfort; we want to make them
happier, that's all. A little more kindness between man and man; a
little more consideration for each other; a little more brightness in
dull lives."

He paused at the corner of the street, and, with a hearty handshake, went
off. Mr. Billing, a prey to somewhat mixed emotions, continued on his
way home. The little knot of earnest men and women who had settled in
the district to spread light and culture had been angling for him for
some time. He wondered, as he walked, what particular bait it was that
had done the mischief.

"They've got me at last," he remarked, as he opened the house-door and
walked into his small kitchen. "I couldn't say 'no' to Mr. Purnip."

"Wish 'em joy," said Mrs. Billing, briefly. "Did you wipe your boots?"

Her husband turned without a word, and, retreating to the mat, executed a
prolonged double-shuffle.

"You needn't wear it out," said the surprised Mrs. Billing.

"We've got to make people 'appier," said her husband, seriously; "be
kinder to 'em, and brighten up their dull lives a bit. That's wot Mr.
Purnip says."

"You'll brighten 'em up all right," declared Mrs. Billing, with a sniff.
"I sha'n't forget last Tuesday week--no, not if I live to be a hundred.
You'd ha' brightened up the police-station if I 'adn't got you home just
in the nick of time."