It was more than thirty years since Mary Slessor had landed in Duke Town, and there were many changes. The government buildings were larger and finer, the mission buildings had increased in number and size, and there were many other improvements. England had begun to busy herself with the affairs of her colony, and the Church at home was listening to the desperate call from Calabar. Presently a long line of boys appeared from the Boys' School and filed into the hall of the mission buildings. Then there came an equally long file from the Girls' School. At once the chief missionary and the other missionaries and the Governor General and the Commissioner went thither also, followed by the Europeans and the natives. They took their assigned places on the platform and the benches and sat waiting. They watched the door even as the naughty boys and girls had looked up the street in Dundee, and as the Okoyong chiefs had looked out from between the branches. "She's coming!" said a whisper. The whisper passed all along the benches. "She's coming! She's coming!" A little figure advanced to the platform, hesitated, and moved on, assisted by firm and tender hands, and urged by laughing voices. "Now, come along, Ma! Are you afraid, Ma?" It must be confessed that now at last Mary Slessor was afraid; afraid of all these eyes, though she was accustomed to facing thousands of eyes set in black faces; afraid of all these smiles, though she was accustomed to friendliness. Most of all, she was afraid of what was being said. Almost before she was seated, the Commissioner began to speak. "Miss Slessor, I have in my hand a box which contains a silver badge of the Order of the Hospital of St. John of Jerusalem in England, of which the King is the sovereign head. This badge is conferred only on persons professing the Christian faith, who are eminently distinguished for philanthropy. It is a Maltese cross, embellished in the angles by lions and unicorns. I have been directed by the King to bestow this badge upon you in recognition of your service to the government. You have opened the country of Okoyong; you, above all others, have been instrumental in preserving peace; you have let in a great light where there was darkness; and England thanks you, her only woman consul." Mary not only was afraid, but she looked afraid. Her head bent lower and lower, her hands were lifted to hide her face. But at last she had to rise and have the medal pinned on her shoulder. She stood for a moment, trembling; then she looked down at the pleased, attentive faces. She saw herself a little girl in Scotland and then a woman in Africa, and once again she grew calm and brave and even a little ashamed of her embarrassment. The credit for what she had done was not hers, she would tell where it belonged; then she would feel comfortable. "If I have done anything in my life," she said, "it has been easy, because the Master has gone before."