words in a way which took the manager by storm. What would he not give
to secure such a treasure as Hester Wright for his house? "Home, sweet
Home," came next; and then why she could not tell, perhaps because of
a pain which was tugging at her heart, perhaps because of the weary
look on some of the faces, and because a whole tide of memories was
thronging before her, she chose "The Land o' the Leal." Such words,
such melody, had never been heard before in that penny theatre. The
women looked wistful, and many of them wept. Hester seemed to sing
straight into their very hearts. The men shuffled uneasily, and one
or two of them wiped their rough hands across their eyes.

"And oh, we'll all meet
In the Land o' the Leal."

sang Hester, and then her voice died away, and she turned and whispered
something to the manager and hastily disappeared.

The men and women went home quietly; tender and long-forgotten feelings
had been briefly aroused, and very few who had visited The Cleopatra
went near the public-house that night.

"Them was blessed words," whispered little Sal's mother, "and she's
a blessed gel. Talk of saints, I call Hester Wright one, though she
never preached no sarmon. The 'Land o' the Leal'--why, it's there as
our Johnny's gone. Bless her heart! The world ain't quite without
comfort, when one thinks of bits of words like them."