way home. Would he fall into the trap that Aunt Stanshy had ingeniously
set for him? The club began to sing their hymns. There was the touching
plea containing the lines:

"O what are you going to do, brother?
Say, what are you going to do?
You have thought of some useful labor,
But what is the end in view?"

Tony sang this. It seemed that night as if some of Italy's sweet singers
must have lent him their notes. The people began to gather about the club.
Aunt Stanshy was there on the watch, eager to see if Will Somers might be
coming down the street. Tony's voice warbled away. Now it was an exultant
note that he touched, and then his voice sank to a plaintive appeal:

"Is your heart in the Saviour's keeping?
Remember, he died for you;
Then what are you going to do, brother?
Say, what are you going to do?"

As Tony sang, there was a young man leaning against the fence adjoining
the church door. It was somebody listlessly leaning, lifting to the light
of the street lamp a face on which rested the shadow of a great sadness.

"It's he!" said Aunt Stanshy, excitedly.

Charlie heard her. He guessed that it was some one out on the sidewalk
whom she had discovered, and he stretched his small head beyond the ring
of singers, anxiously looking out into the shadows. His sharp eye saw that
form leaning against the fence. He could not wait until the song was