“Oh, you must carry it through better,” he said. “Let your left arm take it right out. You’re cramped. You’re gripping too tightly. Try it without gripping with your right hand at all. You’ll get the idea of the finish. That’s better. Now right through with it! Oh, Lord!” he gasped. There was a crash of glass, then a great thump, and a hubbub of screams and masculine exclamations. The heavy club had slipped from the lawyer’s hand and had sailed through the glass door into the middle of the waiting-room. [Illustration: There was a crash of glass] The great lawyer hurriedly put on his coat. “I suppose I’ll have to straighten things out in there,” he observed. “But that was the idea, wasn’t it--right out!” There was a twinkle in his eye. He opened the door. In a circle around the fourteen-ounce mashie stood his clients. “Oh, just a moment,” broke in Cutting. “Can’t that Reed case go over the term? My uncle wanted me to ask for a postponement.” “Certainly,” said the lawyer. “Tell the managing clerk to sign the stipulation. I’ll meet you Saturday at the three-ten train.” Then he put on his cross-questioning expression. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said calmly, “whom have I the honor of seeing first?” Who that person was Cutting never knew, because he at once slipped out through the private way, and got his paper signed. Then he went back to his office, crossed over to his desk, and took up the newspaper again. There were the scores of the medal play at Shinnecock, in which he was interested. Presently Mr. Bruce happened out of his private room, and Mr. Smith coincidently happened out of his. “By the way, Mr. Cutting,” said Bruce, amiably, “how about that Reed matter?” “It’s put over the term,” said Cutting, without looking up. “Here’s the stipulation. Hello!” he added, half aloud, “here’s Broadhead winning at Newport, four up and three to play. That’s funny. Did you see that, Bruce? He’s been all off his form, too.” “No,” said Mr. Bruce. The junior partners retired with the stipulation, and were closeted together for a long time. It puzzled them. They were impressed, and to each other they admitted it. Finally Mr. Smith rose and said that he had to go. “Perhaps we have made a mistake,” he observed. “There must be something to this boy. He got this.” He waved the stipulation. “We had better give him more of a chance,” said Bruce. And they did. Gradually they began to comprehend him, and then to like him. As for Cutting, he unbent himself, and got interested in his work. At the end of the six months they spoke well of him, so that he continued on in the firm; and when he was married they sent him a very beautiful etching of “The Angelus.” THE MEDAL OF HONOR STORY VI THE MEDAL OF HONOR STORY