"Well, go and see him, gel. A very good soldier they tell me--D.S.O. and M.C. with two bars." "_Two_ bars, Josiah!" Gerty put up her glasses impressively. "And earned 'em--they tell me. Come to think of it, it's wonderful what some of these young chaps have done." "And some of the older ones, too, Josiah." Gerty looked across at the Corporal who was toying pensively with a cigarette that had been pressed upon him. "Aye, and some of the old uns, too!" The Mayor followed the glance of his sister-in-law with the eye of perfect candor. "And not been brought up to it, mark you. They tell me our B.B. is second to none in the British Army." The Corporal looked as if he would like to have confirmed the Mayor's statement had he not remembered that professional etiquette required so delicate a topic to be left exclusively to civilians. Sally and Ethel went after awhile, and Josiah led the Corporal across the hall to what he called "his snuggery," wherein he considered his business affairs and the affairs of the City, and, although by no means a reading man, occasionally referred to the Encyclopedia Britannica and kindred works. He was at pains to dispose the Corporal in comfort near the fire and then gave him an excellent cigar and insisted on his smoking it. At first little passed between them in the way of words. They smoked in silence, but the Corporal could not help thinking, as he delicately savored the best cigar he had ever held between his fingers, how much prosperity had improved "the Mester." He was so much mellower, so much more generous than of yore. His outlook on the world was bigger altogether; the Corporal's own outlook was larger also; somehow, he had not the heart to resist the peace overtures of his father-in-law. Said Josiah at last, pointing to the Corporal's leg: "A longish job, I expect." The doctors seemed to think it might be. Still it had got the turn now. It was beginning to mend. "I've been wondering," said the Mayor, "whether it mightn't be possible to get you transferred to munitions. Johnson and Hartley are short o' foremen. Pound a day to begin with. What do you say, my boy?" The Corporal gazed into the fire without saying anything. Said the Mayor, half apologetically, "You're not so young as you were, you see. Forty-three, they tell me, is a bit long in the tooth for the trenches. And you've done your bit. Why not give some o' the younger ones a chance?" In silence the Corporal went on gazing into the fire. "Anyhow it might be worth thinking over." The Corporal removed the cigar from his mouth and appeared laconically to agree that it might be worth thinking over. But the suggestion didn't seem to fire him.