“There’s a good time coming when a youngster in a jacket can talk like that,” said a man. “Yes,” replied another with a sigh; “the next generation will be better than we are.” “If we do our duty by them! We were left too much to ourselves, you know. Our grandfathers believed in the stick, and had their boys well in hand. Our fathers went too much the other way, and didn’t care what became of us, so long as we got out of their way. But our boys don’t want to be let alone; they want to be looked after and helped; and if we do it there will be a fine time to follow ours. I wish I could live to see it.” “Well, anyway, we will put our man in, for he is one of the right sort.” “Oh, we shall do that, sure enough.” And so they did. There was no more bitter struggle anywhere than at Scourby, where Mr. Whitwell and his friends had resolved upon wresting the seat from Mr. Richard Lavender, though there were several other places in which the battle was fought on the same lines. In Scourby, since the churches had decided to unite in Christian and philanthropic endeavour of all kinds, there had been a marked change. Every building consecrated to the worship of God had been a centre round which all sorts of plans for ameliorating the condition of the poor had been tried. One man, at his own expense, had rented a couple of cottages, and there provided occupations of different kinds for those who were out of work. Another cottage had been taken by a lady, who kept it for the use of mothers who might come there to be helped in their cooking, sewing, or anything else that they had in hand. The committee of Helpfulness had been so successful that the whole town had been canvassed, and there was no one in the place who had been overlooked or disregarded. And, best of all, the children were under control in their times of play as well as during their school hours. And all this told upon the working men, on whose votes the election depended; so that, although it could not even yet be said that they could be got to flock into the different places of worship, they did not all flock to public-houses; and they were permeated with the idea that their best friends and staunchest helpers and supporters were Christians. It was strange that they had ever believed otherwise; but many of them had, and the fact that at last they were being convinced of the truth was an unspeakable gain. There were some lively scenes in Scourby. Mr. Richard Lavender was every evening in some public-house or other, drinking with the voters, smoking with them, and promising them everything which they liked to ask. But the public-house business was not what it used to be. There were so many other comfortable meeting-places for men in those days, and so many men meant business of another kind, that the number of votes secured over the pot and the glass were fewer than ever before.