On one side of the room was a sort of pen, with mattresses and blankets, and into this the children were tucked, the room was darkened, talking was forbidden and in a very few minutes they were all asleep, and silence and peace reigned. "It keeps them good-tempered, and it rests the nurses," the smiling matron used to say. Eight o'clock seemed to come much earlier on Monday night than on any other, and with the hour came Aunt Jane for the baby, and Harry's bliss was over till Saturday should dawn again, but after all it was not long from Monday night to Saturday morning, only Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday! These pleasant summer days were bringing to Jim, too, a smooth and easy-going existence--just the existence that suited his easy-going temperament. And then, partly through the very smoothness of these days, partly on account of his great satisfaction in his own strength in keeping a resolve, there arose in Jim's life a little cloud, no bigger than a man's hand. He had been a total abstainer such a long time now. He had so often resisted Jane's repeated invitations to share the supper beer, that she had ceased to offer it. The old liking for strong drink did not assail him now. He even mentioned with a superior little laugh to his mates, that there had been a time when he had liked his glass a trifle overmuch, but now he had given it up for good and all. And the very next day they played a trick on him. He was extremely fond of cold coffee, and generally brought a can of it with him for his dinner, and one very hot morning he set it down on a great stone in a shady corner of the workshop to keep it cool. And when dinner-time came, being thirsty, the first thing he did was to take a long pull at his can. He had swallowed half its contents at one draught, before he realised what had happened. The mystified, horrified expression on his face as he set the can down, was almost ludicrous; to his mates who were all in the secret, it was irresistibly funny. There was a roar of delighted laughter, and Jim's eyes blazed with anger as he glared at the can he still grasped in his hand. Yes! It was his own can, and they had taken away his coffee and filled it with beer! He had been basely tricked. He stood there realising it, while the roars of laughter were sobering down into words. "Ha! Ha! old teetotaller! That's the best fun we ever had!" "Jolly good coffee! isn't it, Jim? If you could only have seen your own face!" "Never mind, old chap! You can be a teetotaller again to-morrow." "I won't!" said Jim angrily, "I did try. Now I don't care what happens." He gathered up his dinner basket and the can of beer, and stalked away, and a silence fell upon the little group of workmen as they watched him. CHAPTER XIX. A SUCCESSFUL RAID. Jim Adams stuck to his threat. He ceased to be an abstainer, and life changed at once for himself and for all those with whom he came in contact.