"It's this way," said Bill, great drops of perspiration standing on his forehead. "It's this way. In the army I learned to drink. After I came home I took up my old trade and have always worked when I could keep sober. Since I have lived in this part of town I've been drunk more than I have been at work. Every time it happened, I'd swear that it would never happen again, but I'd go and git it before I'd git my breakfast. I tried to stop, but couldn't handle myself at all. Every one round here knows how my family suffered. I could make enough ter keep 'em good, but I'd spent it fer likker. My wife has took in washin' to keep the kids from starvin' and freezin'. She had to work all night, more'n one night, and when Freddie died--Oh, my God! I wish I could forgit that! When Freddie died--I was drunk. Just before he passed away I promised him I'd never drink another drop, but I went out and got into the delirium tremens before I stopped. When I came to myself I found that my wife had sold everything in the house but the stove, table, a few chairs and one bed to pay the funeral expenses. You can call it fun, if yer want to, but I tell you it's hell on earth. Most of you know what's happened lately. When my old pal, Bob Moore, died, I was in bad shape; but I never got away from what God did fer him before he died. When I got out of bed, Jimmie took me to the Mission and Jesus saved me the first night I went there. My wife was saved the night before, and I tell you we're havin' different times at our house nowadays. We had chicken fer dinner to-day and we've had meat once a day fer two weeks. I've eat garlic sausage and rye bread on the free lunch counter fer thirty years, but now I'm eatin' chicken and givin' the old lady and kids a chance ter eat too." When he sat down some tried to clap their hands, but the crowd did not feel that way. Every one knew that Bill had told the truth and they were touched with the earnest way in which he told his simple, straightforward story. "Now, while you are quiet, I will ask our friend to sing for us," said Morton. "Please come to the wagon, sister," he said to Floe. As she stepped upon the wagon every eye was upon her. She was dressed in a dark tailor-made suit, very plain but neat. Mr. Worden at the organ started to play softly. Floe walked to the front of the wagon and looked down into the faces of many she knew. Her large black eyes beamed with love for them all. She was very pale, but calm, and as she stood there she looked like a queen. "It's Floe," said Dave. "She can beat 'em all singin'." "Gee, don't she look swell! I'd hardly know her," said Gene Dibble. "Before I sing this song for you," she said in a clear, sweet voice, "I wish to say something about it. Most of you, no doubt, know this song and many of you like it, but to me it means more than any song I could sing. It simply tells my life story. Let me read it to you.