"I wonder," mused William, as he stepped towards M. Colin's, "whether some of the better-conducted of the men might not be induced to come round to East's in an evening? It might be a beginning, at any rate. Once wean the men from the public-houses, and there's no knowing what reform might be effected. I would willingly give up an hour or two of my evenings to them!"
His visit to M. Colin over, he retraced his steps to Honey Fair and turned into Robert East's. It was past eight o'clock then. Robert and Stephen Crouch were home from work, and were getting out their books. Charlotte sat by, at work as usual, and Tom East was drawing Charlotte's head towards him, to whisper something to her.
"Robert," said William, speaking impulsively, the moment he entered, "I wonder whether you could induce a few of your neighbours to come here of an evening?"
"What for, sir?" asked Robert turning round from the book-shelves where he stood, searching for some volume.
"It might be so much better for them. It might end in being so. I wish," he added with sudden warmth, "we could get all Honey Fair here!"
"All Honey Fair!" echoed Stephen Crouch in astonishment.
"I mean what I say, Crouch."
"Why, sir, the room wouldn't hold a quarter or a tenth part, or a hundredth part of them."
William laughed. "No, that it would not, practically. There is so much discomfort around us, and—and ill-doing—I must call it so, for want of a better name—that I sometimes wish we could mend it a little."
"Who mend it, sir?"