Mr. Vickers almost helpless with indignation. In full view of Selina,
who happened to be standing by the door, he brought her unfortunate
father along Mint Street, holding him by the arm and addressing him in
fond but severe tones on the surpassing merits of total abstinence and
the folly of wasting his children's money on beer.

"I found 'im inside the 'Horse and Groom,"' he said to the astonished
Selina; "they've got a new barmaid there, and the pore gal wasn't in the
house 'arf an hour afore she was serving him with beer. A pot, mind
you."

[Illustration: "'I found 'im inside the Horse and Groom,' he said."]

He shook his head in great regret at the speechless Mr. Vickers, and,
pushing him inside the house, followed close behind.

"Look here, Bill Russell, I don't want any of your larks," said Miss
Vickers, recovering herself.

"Larks?" repeated Mr. Russell, with an injured air. "I'm a teetotaler,
and it's my duty to look after brothers that go astray."

He produced a pledge-card from his waistcoat-pocket and, smoothing it out
on the table, pointed with great pride to his signature. The date of the
document lay under the ban of his little finger.

"I'd just left the Temperance Hall," continued the zealot. "I've been to
three meetings in two days; they'd been talking about the new barmaid,
and I guessed at once what brother Vickers would do, an' I rushed off,
just in the middle of brother Humphrey's experiences--and very