e and told him about it only last week. I suppose George Lister is
fairly suited about it."

"I hear that Tom's going to have the V.C. or D.C.M. or summat o' that
sort," remarked a neighbour; "dost 'a know what that means?"

"Nay, I know nowt about it, but I hope as he will get a bit o' brass
wi' it, onyhow."

"Will he come home, dost 'a' think?"

"Nay, I don't know. Why should he leave his job for a thing like that?
I expect if he wur to come home they'd stop his pay, and I hope Tom is
noan such a fool as to lose his pay, but there, there's no tellin'."

In spite of all this, however, Mrs. Pollard was in no slight degree
elated. She knew that Tom was the talk of Brunford, and that special
articles were devoted to him in the Brunford newspapers.

"He will be sure to come home," said Ezekiel Pollard to her one night
after supper; "when a lad's done a job like that, he's sure to have a
bit of a holiday."

"Maybe, and I suppose tha'll be showing him around as though he wur a
prize turkey. Ay, but I am glad about this drinking order."

"Why?"

"Because else all th' lads in the town 'ud be wanting to treat our Tom;
they 'd be proud to be seen wi' him, and they'd make him drunk afore he
know'd where he wur. Our Tom never could sup much beer wi'out it goin'
to his head."

"Our Tom has give up that sort o' thing," replied Ezekiel.

"How dost tha' know?"

"I do know, and that's enough," replied Ezekiel, thinking of Tom's last
letter, which, by the way, he had never shown to his wife.

I am not going to try to describe Tom's feelings when he was told that
he had been recommended for the D.C.M.

"Thank you, sir, but I've done nowt to deserve it," cried the lad,
lapsing for the moment into the Lancashire dialect.

Colonel Blount laughed. Ever since Waterman's death he had felt as
though a burden had been lifted from him. He felt sure now that his
plans would not be frustrated.

"We are the best judges of that, my lad," he said. "You can tell your
father and mother that, as a Lancashire man, I'm proud of you."

It was on a Saturday in December when Tom arrived in Brunford on leave
of absence. He had spent Friday in London, and caught the ten o'clock
train at King's Cross Station. There was no prouder lad in England
that day, although, truth to tell, he was not quite happy. Naturally
he had read what had been written about him in the newspapers, and
reflected upon what the people in Brunford would be