She also took her turn with Mrs. White in
making taffy, for they had learned that when temperance
sentiment waned, taffy, with nuts in it, had a wonderful
power to bind and hold the wavering childish heart.
There was no human way of telling a taffy day--the only
sure way was to go every time. The two little White girls
always knew, but do you think they would tell? Not they.
There was secrecy written all over their blond faces,
and in every strand of their straw-coloured hair. Once
they deliberately stood by and heard Minnie McSorley and
Mary Watson plan to go down to the creamery for
pussy-willows on Monday afternoon--there were four plates
of taffy on their mother's pantry shelf at the time and
yet they gave no sign--Minnie McSorley and Mary Watson
went blindly on and reaped a harvest of regrets.
There was no use offering the White girls anything for
the information. Glass alleys, paint cards or even popcorn
rings were powerless to corrupt them. Once Jimmy Watson
became the hero of an hour by circulating the report that
he had smelled it cooking when he took the milk to Miss
Barner's; but alas, for circumstantial evidence.
Every child went to Band of Hope that Monday afternoon
eager and expectant; but it was only a hard lesson on
the effect of alcohol on the lining of the stomach that
they got, and when Mrs. White complimented them on their
increased attendance and gave out the closing hymn,
Oh, what a happy band are we!
the Hogan twins sobbed.
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