On the following Friday afternoon young Paul Ford was again on the Moorthorne car, and subject to the official ministrations of Thomas Chadwick. Paul Ford was a man who never bore malice when the bearing of malice might interfere with the gratification of his sense of humour. Many men--perhaps most men--after being so grossly insulted by a tram-conductor as Paul Ford had been insulted by Chadwick, would at the next meeting have either knocked the insulter down or coldly ignored him. But Paul Ford did neither. (In any case, Thomas Chadwick would have wanted a deal of knocking down.) For some reason, everything that Thomas Chadwick said gave immense amusement to Paul Ford. So the young man commenced the conversation in the usual way: "How do, Tommy?" The car on this occasion was coming down from Moorthorne into Bursley, with its usual bump and rattle of windows. As Thomas Chadwick made no reply, Paul Ford continued: "How much did she give you--the perfect lady, I mean?" Paul Ford was sitting near the open door. Thomas Chadwick gazed absently at the Town Park, with its terra-cotta fountains and terraces, and beyond the Park, at the smoke rising from the distant furnaces of Red Cow. He might have been lost in deep meditation upon the meanings of life; he might have been prevented from hearing Paul Ford's question by the tremendous noise of the car. He made no sign. Then all of a sudden he turned almost fiercely on Paul Ford and glared at him. "Ye want to know how much she gave me, do ye?" he demanded hotly. "Yes," said Paul Ford. "How much she gave me for taking her that there purse?" Tommy Chadwick temporized. He was obliged to temporize, because he could not quite resolve to seize the situation and deal with it once for all in a manner favourable to his dignity and to the ideals which he cherished. "Yes," said Paul Ford. "Well, I'll tell ye," said Thomas Chadwick--"though I don't know as it's any business of yours. But, as you're so curious!... She didn't give me anything. She asked me to have a little refreshment, like the lady she is. But she knew better than to offer Thomas Chadwick any pecooniary reward for giving her back something as she'd happened to drop. She's a lady, she is!" "Oh!" said Paul Ford. "It don't cost much, being a lady!" "But I'll tell ye what she _did_ do," Thomas Chadwick went on, anxious, now that he had begun so well, to bring the matter to an artistic conclusion--"I'll tell ye what she did do. She give me a sovereign apiece for my grandsons--my eldest daughter's twins." Then, after an effective pause: "Ye can put that in your pipe and smoke it!... A sovereign apiece!" "And have you handed it over?" Paul Ford inquired mildly, after a period of soft whistling. "I've started two post-office savings bank accounts for 'em," said Thomas Chadwick, with ferocity.