ord was excited beyond measure. The story was
told in a hundred mills by thousands of operatives; it was discussed in
the public places, in every inn and tavern, and throughout the whole
district. It did more to enlighten the minds of the people as to the
real hopes and aims of the Germans than all the newspaper articles
which had appeared. It revealed to the people, too, the real character
of the Germans. Here was one of the best of them who had acted like a
cad, and who in the face of good-fellowship had haughtily flaunted the
superiority of the German people. The incident also gave point to the
story of the ghastly atrocities which were taking place in Belgium.
People were excited beyond measure; the War was becoming real to them.

All this had its effect upon Tom. Not that even yet he realised the
full significance of what was taking place. Hundreds of young fellows
were enlisting, but Tom held back. September, October, November passed
away, and still Tom failed to respond to his country's call. He quite
agreed with his friends, and said that of course England must lick the
Germans; but he never admitted that the War had anything to do with him.

"I am earning good brass," said Tom, "and if I hold on I shall make
more still. Let those as wants to fight the Germans fight 'em, I'm
noan going to get killed." This he said to Polly Powell one night as
he sat in the private sitting-room of the Thorn and Thistle.

"And quite right too, Tom," said Polly--"tha'rt too good a lad to be
killed by the Germans. Besides, enough'll go without thee. If th'
other chaps like to be fools, let 'em."

Still Tom did not feel altogether comfortable. At the back of his mind
was the vague thought that he ought to do his bit, but his natural
selfishness, added to Polly Powell's influence, kept him at home.

Besides, by this time winter had laid its icy grip upon the earth.
News came of soldiers being crippled for life by frost-bite; stories
were told of men standing up to the waist in icy slush; wounded men
came back from the front telling stories about the terrible power of
the Germans; newspapers were obliged to admit that we seemed to be
powerless in the face of the enemy.

All this made Tom somewhat afraid; he was not cast in an heroic mould;
the spirit of adventure was not strong within him.

"I say, Tom," said a man whose three sons were in the army, "are you
going to stay home like a coward?"

"I'm noan a coward,"