Early that Saturday afternoon Mrs. Coates, breathless and agitated, came into Mrs. Waring's shop and, seeing Phebe behind the counter, went up to her at once, exclaiming, "Oh, Mrs. Waring, can you help me! Jim's never come home; he's quite an hour late. I know they often have to wait a good while to be paid, but that's not all. A lad as plays with my Freddie says he saw him go into 'The Rose in June' about half-an-hour ago. O God, help me; it's all over with him if he's gone in there!" "It cannot be true." "The lad says he was sure it was him. Oh, Mrs. Waring, would you mind going in to see if he's there, and try to get him to come home? I daren't go in by myself; he'd give me such a time afterwards if I did." "Do you want me to go into the public-house?" "Yes, if you would; we might get him out then before he had spent all his money and was quite drunk. Do you mind? I know it is asking a great deal." Phebe paused for a moment; but when she looked up at the star she at once answered: "Yes, I will come with you." It was a very busy time, she could ill be spared, but what was all that compared with the rescue of a soul! A few minutes afterwards these two women had passed through the swing-doors of "The Rose in June"--the first time Phebe had ever entered a public-house. No sooner had the doors swung to behind them than they were face to face with Jim! To say that a straw would have knocked the man down is but a faint description of his utter astonishment. "What--what--is the matter!" he gasped. There was not the slightest smell of drink about him. "Oh, come outside! Come outside, do!" exclaimed Mrs. Coates, bursting into tears. It did not take the three long to get the other side of the doors, and then, standing on the doorstep, Mrs. Waring began to explain: "You must forgive us; we were afraid----" "I understand it all, Mrs. Waring," broke in Jim. "Don't you make any trouble of it. You thought I'd come in to have a drink; but I hadn't. I only came in after some of my mates to keep them straight, if I could." "But, ought you to put yourself in the way of temptation?" "Bless you, the drink's no snare to me now. I hate even the smell of it. I thought----" and then he faltered. "I am so sorry," said Phebe Waring, putting her hand on Jim's arm. Just then who should go by but Stephen Collins and Bessie's superintendent. The former raised his hat and gave Phebe a smile; but the latter passed on without any recognition, except for an extra look of grimness on his face. "No, you're not to say you're sorry," said Jim, magnanimously. "It was only natural you should think it queer. As for my old woman here, no wonder she was nervous, after all she's suffered. And I thank you with all my heart, Mrs. Waring, for coming here, for it shows that if I had indeed gone crooked you wouldn't have given a fellow up." * * * * *