After this Tom told her story, showing at every step how if the boy who went down into the lowest depths of degradation had had a strong man—a gentleman—to help him, it would have been different. “But the young gentlemen,” said Tom, “were smoking and drinking, and so busy in robbing themselves of their own strength and manhood that they took no notice of the poor wretches who were dying by their side, and _Noblesse oblige_ had no meaning for them.” “But it has for us,” said a boyish voice, its owner rising in the middle of the room; and Margaret was delighted as she looked at him; a tall, straight, good-looking boy with his brown curls tossed back from his forehead, and his blue eyes flashing with fearless determination. “Let me tell the ladies who have spoken that there are hosts of us quite ready to form a new army of Volunteer Crusaders. But we want a little help and encouragement; we are so cowardly, afraid and ashamed of appearing as good as we are. Could not another word for good be invented? We would rather face a lion than the stigma of being called goody-goody; but let nobody on that account suppose that our hatred of wrong, and our indignation against the wrong-doer, is any less hot in us than in our fathers. We have been born with consciences, and we have energy enough to battle with anything. You fellows, what do you say? Shall we, here in London, and to-night, form a regiment of Soldiers of Peace? I believe the idea would be taken up all over England; for the boys I know—most of them, at all events—do not want to disgrace their names. If we could really believe that we are called to be heroes there is that in us which would help us to rise to the name. Yes, and let us wear a rosette of the red, white, and blue of Old England, which no boy shall wear except worthily; the blue for temperance, the white for purity, and the red for battle or endeavour. These colours have won renown in the past; they shall win higher renown still in the new days for our country, for—” and the young voice rang out like a bugle call—“we swear to God that we will do our part to make our nation exalted by its righteousness.” The boys shouted “Hurrah!” they could not help it; they were wonderfully moved by the short harangue of their comrade, Ned Northcote, a favourite of all who knew him. And Tom trembled with excitement as she put her hand on the arm of her hostess. “We must take this holy enthusiasm at its flow,” she said. “Miss Wentworth, will you let your house be the rallying ground for this grand new army?” And the older woman replied with quivering lips, “Only too gladly! Never before was the house so consecrated as it is to-night.” She might well say so; for at that moment a boy’s voice, in simple boyish language, was vowing for himself and his fellows, all of them standing, with bowed heads and swiftly-beating hearts, that they would live for the kingdom of Christ, and be the King’s soldiers.