If the Colonel in his missionary efforts for the National Service League made little impression on the masses in the East-end, he was astonishingly successful with such labour as existed in Old Town; which in political consciousness lagged fifty years behind its tumultuous neighbour on the edge of the Levels, and retained far into this century much of the atmosphere of a country village. There the Church was still a power politically, and the workers disorganised. The Brewery in the Moot and the Southdown Transport Company were the sole employers of labour in the bulk; and Mr. Pigott the only stubborn opponent of the programme of the League.
Archdeacon Willcocks backed the Colonel with whole-hearted ferocity, and lent him the services of the Reverend Spink, who, flattered at working with a Colonel D.S.O., showed himself keen and capable, and proposed to run the Old Town branch of the League in conjunction with the Church of England's Men's Society.
"I've got a first-rate secretary as a start," he told the Colonel importantly.
"Ernest Caspar!" cried the Colonel. "The old Hammer-man!"
"No, his brother. Twice the man. Alfred--Mr. Trupp's chauffeur."
A few days later, when leaving the curate's lodgings, the Colonel ran up against Ernie in Church Street.
"Your brother's joined us," he said. "Are you going to?"
Ernie's charming face became sullen at once.
"I would, sir," he said. "Only for that."
"You won't join because your brother has!" grinned the Colonel.
"It's my wife, sir," he muttered. "See, he persecutes her somethink shameful."
Next afternoon the Colonel was crossing Saffrons Croft on his way to the Manor-house for tea, when a majestic young woman, a baby in her arms, sauntering under the elms watching the cricket, smiled at him suddenly.
"I'm Mrs. Caspar, sir," she explained. "We met you the other night on the Head--Ern and me."
"Oh, I know all about you!" replied the Colonel, glancing at the baby who lifted to the sky a face like a sleeping rose. "My word!--she's a bonny un."
"She grows, sir," replied Ruth, cooing and contented. "We gets her all the air we can. So we come here with the children for a blow of the coolth most in general Saraday afternoons. More air than in the Moot."