"Out with it, then. What is it?"
"Oh, father, will you come up to the Mission Hall to-night?" And Phil took both his father's hands, and looked pleadingly into the troubled, restless face before him.
For a moment there was a struggle. In his sober moments Mellor had a father's heart, and just now it was rather drawn out to the bright-faced boy before him, whose life he had made so sad. Surely it was a little thing to do, and the Mission Hall folk had been kind to the lads. Why shouldn't he go for once? He'd never done much to give his boys pleasure yet. Phil's birthday!
How well he remembered the day he was born, in that comfortable home away in the North, when he was a well-to-do man, earning a good salary, and living in ease! But now—and he glanced round the wretched room, with its miserable belongings—at his boy, with the ragged, shabby clothes—at himself. Ay, that was the worst look of all; for it was he, Stephen Mellor, who, by his own sin and folly, had brought all this want and misery on his wife and boys. And as he sat there, crushed and hopeless, the tears forced themselves down between his fingers and on to Phil's hand.
The boy was startled. "Why, father, what is it? Are you ill?"
"No, Phil, no; don't talk to me. Yes, I'll go with you to-night; anywhere for a change;" and the man rose from his seat, and walked restlessly to and fro.
And so the cherished desire of Phil and Rob was fulfilled at last, and that same evening Stephen Mellor was seen in the Mission Hall, sitting on the very back seat in the farthest corner, between his two boys, who with the most important air were pointing out everybody and everything.
But just as the service commenced Mellor gave a sudden start, as he saw a policeman enter the room and make straight for the corner in which he sat.
"Phil, why is that man corning here? What does he want?"
"Why, father, it's only Mr. Forbes. He lives close here, and takes care of the place, and he's just going to shut the window."