"Good--very good," said the other. "Come in. There, sit you down by the table--and, missus, give us each a cup of tea. Now, you just look over the chimney-piece. There's one of my walking-sticks: `Do the next thing.' And, now, look over the dresser. There's the other walking- stick: `One step at a time'. And I'll just tell you how to use them. It don't require any practice. When you've half-a-dozen things as wants doing, and can't all be done at once, just you consider which of 'em all ought to be done first. That's `the next thing.' Go straight ahead at that, and don't trouble a bit about the rest till that's done. That's one stick as'll help you to walk through a deal of work with very little bustle and worry. And, James, just be content in all you do to be guided by the great Master as owns us all, the Lord Jesus Christ, who bought us for himself with his own blood. Just be willing to follow him, and let him lead you `one step at a time,' and don't want to see the place for the next step till you've put your foot where he tells you. You'll find that a rare stout walking-stick. You may lean your whole weight on it, and it won't give way; and it'll help you in peace through the trials of this life, and on the road to a better." Such was Thomas Bradly's kitchen. Many a happy gathering was held there, and many a useful lesson learned in it. But, besides the rooms already mentioned, there was one adjoining the kitchen which was specially Thomas Bradly's own. It was of considerable size, and was entered from the inside by a little door out of the kitchen. This door was commonly locked, and the key kept by Bradly himself. The more usual approach to it was from the outside. Its external appearance did not exactly contribute to the symmetry of the whole premises; but that was a matter of very small moment to its proprietor, who had added it on for a special purpose. The house itself was on the hill-side, on the outskirts of the town, as has been said. There was a little bit of garden in front and on either side, so that it could not be built close up to. At present it had no very near neighbours. A little gate in the low wall which skirted the garden, on the left hand as you faced the house, allowed any visitor to have access to the outer door of Bradly's special room without going through the garden up the front way. On this outer door was painted in white letters, "Surgery." "Do you mend broken bones, Tommy Tracks?" asked a working-man of not very temperate or moral habits soon after this word had been painted on the door. "If you do, I think we may perhaps give you a job before long, as it'll be Crossbourne Wakes next Sunday week." "No," was Bradly's reply; "I mend broken hearts, and put drunkards' homes into their proper places when they've got out of joint." "Indeed! You'll be clever to do that, Tommy." "Ah! You don't know, Bill. P'raps you'll come and try my skill yourself afore long."