“Plenty of opportunities,” retorted Enderby, “but not fool enough to take advantage of ’em!” It was so clear he was becoming nettled that the secretary whispered to Mr. Mayor; his Worship proceeded to speak, at some length, on the subject of bravery, making allusions to the boy who stood on the burning deck, to Grace Darling, and to others. Eventually, and to the obvious relief of Enderby, he presented the purse, handed over the medal, and allowed the man to return to the front row. There Enderby and his friends made no attempt to conceal restiveness during the remainder of the speeches. The occupants of seats at the reporters’ table sent a note to the young secretary, reminding him that the recipient had not acknowledged the rewards. “No,” replied Enderby, with resolution, “I jolly well won’t. Made myself quite conspicuous enough as it is, and if I tried to talk from the platform I sh’d only make myself more conspicuouser than before. I may also add it’s dry work listening to all this cackle.” “Don’t lose the medal.” “You take charge of it for me,” he requested. “May overlook it somewhere if I take it with me now!” It was the secretary’s first essay in management of public affairs and he congratulated himself, in leaving the Town Hall, on the fact that everything had gone well; the Mayor had said at the end, “Very smooth and satisfactory!” The case with the medal bulged the inside pocket of his coat, and this would not have mattered only that he was going, later, to see a young woman whom he loved, and give to her a full report. Wherefore he stepped on a tram-car and was conveyed to William Street. “May be back at any moment,” said the neighbours. “What’s to-day? Tuesday? Well, she has to be at Willesden by seven in the morning, and she usually gets home, comparatively speaking, early. Other days its quite late before she— Here she is!” Mrs. Enderby was grateful to the secretary for bringing the medal, and said so. She wished he had also brought the money that had been collected, but this, she knew, was an extravagant aspiration. Mrs. Enderby admitted it was difficult, at times, to make ends meet; thanks be, she had fair health and strength. Six children, all living, and no one could say they ever wanted for food. Yes, it did seem a pity Enderby was out of a job, but, after all (cheerfully), it made very little difference at home, because if he earnt money he spent it all himself. How long? Oh, a matter of eleven years or so. Good afternoon, sir, and thank you. “Now, I wonder,” remarked the young secretary to himself, “I wonder if they were right in putting _his_ name on that medal!” * * * * * _Printed by Hazel_, _Watson & Viney, Ld._, _London and Aylesbury_.