Jack Sainsbury smiled. "No, please don't apologise, Mr Charlesworth," he said, with a faint smile. "I daresay I shall soon find some other employment more congenial to me." "I hope so," replied the manager, peering at the young man through his horn-rimmed glasses--a style affected in official circles. "Nowadays, with so many men at the front, it is not really a difficult matter to find a post in the City. It seems to me that the slacker has the best of it." "I'm not a slacker, though you may think I am, Mr Charlesworth," cried Jack, reddening. "A month after war was declared I went to the recruiting office fully prepared to enlist. But, unfortunately, they rejected me as medically unfit." "Did they?" exclaimed the other in surprise. "You never told us that!" "Was it necessary? I merely tried to do my duty. But--" and he paused, and then, in a meaning voice, he added: "If I can't do my duty out in the trenches, I can at least do it here, at home." "If it is true that you've been already rejected as unfit," exclaimed Charlesworth, "I daresay I might induce the directors to reconsider their decision." "No, sir," was Sainsbury's proud reply. "I will not trouble you to do that. It is quite apparent that, for some unknown reason, they wish to dismiss me. Therefore I consider myself dismissed--and, to tell you the truth, I don't regret it. But, before I go, I would like to thank you and the staff for all the kindness and consideration shown to me during my illness a year ago." "Then you refuse to stay?" asked Charlesworth, rather puzzled, for he held Sainsbury in high esteem. "Yes. Before dismissing me I consider that the directors should have inquired whether I had tried to enlist," he answered resentfully. "Then I suppose there is no more to say. Shall you remain till the end of the week?" "No, sir. I intend to go now. It would not, I think, be a very happy seven days for me if I remained, would it?" Charlesworth sighed. He was sorry to lose the services of such a bright, shrewd and clever young man. "Very well," he replied regretfully. "If that is really so, Sainsbury, I must wish you good-bye," and with frankness he stretched forth his hand, which the young man took, and then turned on his heel and left the manager's room. While Jack Sainsbury was on his way through the bustle of Gracechurch Street, Lewin Rodwell, who had been upstairs at a meeting of the board, descended and entered Charlesworth's room, closing the door after him. "Well," he asked carelessly, after chatting upon several important business matters, "have you spoken yet to young Sainsbury?" "Yes. And he's gone." Lewin Rodwell drew a sigh of relief. "He ought to enlist--a smart, athletic fellow like that! Such men are just what England wants to-day, Charlesworth. I hope you gave him a good hint--eh?" "I did. But it seems that he has already endeavoured to enlist, but was rejected--a defective arm."