sought at the cannon's mouth
was a bubble of a different kind from that which the good townsfolk
were eager to celebrate. Vanity had no part in it. For what the outer
world thought of his exploits he did not care a penny. He was past
caring. His soul alone, for its own sore needs, had driven him to the
search. Before his own soul and not before his fellow countrymen, had
he craved to parade as a recipient of the Victoria Cross. His own soul,
as I knew, not being satisfied, he would shrink from obtaining popular
applause under false pretences. No unhappy man ever took sterner
measure of himself. Of all this no one but myself had the faintest
idea. In explaining my opinion I had to leave out all essentials. I
could only hint that a sensitive man like Colonel Boyce might be averse
from exhibiting in public his physical disabilities; that he had always
shown himself a modest soldier with a dislike of self-advertisement;
that he would prefer to seek immediate refuge in the quietude of his
home. But they would not listen to me. Colonel Boyce, they said, would
be too patriotic to refuse the town's recognition. It was part of the
game which he, as a brave soldier, no matter how modest, could not fail
to play. He would recognise that such public honourings of valour had
widespread effect among the population. In face of such arguments I had
to withdraw my opposition; otherwise it might have appeared that I was
actuated by petty personal motives. God knows I only desired to save
Boyce from undergoing a difficult ordeal. For the same reasons I could
not refuse to serve on the Reception Committee which was immediately
formed under the chairmanship of the Mayor.

Preliminaries having been discussed, the Mayor and the Town Clerk
waited on Boyce in Belton Square, and returned with the triumphant
tidings that they had succeeded in their mission.

"I can't make out what you were running your head against, Duncan,"
said Sir Anthony. "Of course, as you say, he's a modest chap and
dislikes publicity. So do we all. But I quickly talked him out of that
objection. I talked him out of all sorts of objections before he could
raise them. At last what do you think he said?"

"I should have told you to go to blazes and not worry me."

"He didn't. He said--now I like the chap for it, it was so simple and
honest--he said: 'If I were alone in the world I wouldn't have it, for
I don't like it. But I'll accept on one condition. My poor old mother
h