market! Here he slipped his hand in his pocket, took from it a small box
which he laid beside his plate, and continued:

"At these festivals, as you know, and if my memory serves me this is our
third, it has always been our custom to give some slight token of our
appreciation to the man who has done most during the year to further the
work of the office. This has always been a difficult thing to decide,
because every one of you, without a single exception, has given the best
that is in you in the general result. Three years ago, you remember, it
was awarded to the man who by common consent had carried to completion,
and without a single error, the detailed drawings of the Museum which
was finished last year. I am looking at you, Mr. Downey, and again
congratulate you. Last year it was awarded to Mr. Buttrick for the
masterly way with which he put together the big arches of the Government
warehouses--a man whom it would have been my pleasure to congratulate
again to-night had it been possible for him to reach us. To-night I
think you will all agree with me that this small token, not only of my
own, but of your 'personal regard and appreciation'" (here he opened
the box and took from it a man's ring set with three jewels), "should
be given to the man who has carried out in so thorough a way the part
allotted to him in the Corn Exchange, and who is none other than Mr.
Garrison Minott, who for--"

The rest of the sentence was lost in the uproar.

"Garry! Garry! Garry Minott!" came from all parts of the room. "Bully
for Garry! You deserve it, old man! Three cheers for Garry Minott!
Hip... Hip...!"

Morris's voice now dominated the room.

"Come this way, Mr. Minott."

The face of the young superintendent, which had been in a broad laugh
all the evening, grew white and red by turns. Out of pure astonishment
he could neither move nor speak.

"All right--stay where you are!" cried Morris laughing. "Pass it up to
him, please."

John Breen sprang from his chair with the alertness of a man who had
been accustomed to follow his impulse. In his joy over his friend's
good fortune he forgot his embarrassment, forgot that he was a stranger;
forgot that he alone, perhaps, was the only young man in the room whose
life and training had not fitted him for the fullest enjoyment of
what was passing around him; forgot everything, in fact, but that his
comrade, his friend, his chum, had won the highest honors his Chief
could bestow.