s death, they were doing their best to forget that
he had ever lived. It was obviously the best thing, and it would be
cruel--too cruel--to expect people never to regain their cheerfulness.

"I think I must be off," said James, after a while; "the trains run so
awkwardly to Tunbridge Wells."

They made polite efforts to detain him, but James fancied they were not
sorry for him to go.

"You must come and see us another day when we're alone," said Mrs.
Larcher. "We want to have a long talk with you."

"It's very kind of you to ask me," he replied, not committing himself.

Mrs. Larcher accompanied him back to the drawing-room, followed by her
husband.

"I thought you might like a photograph of Reggie," she said.

This was her first mention of the dead son, and her voice neither shook
nor had in it any unwonted expression.

"I should like it very much."

It was on Jamie's tongue to say how fond he had been of the boy, and how
he regretted his sad end; but he restrained himself, thinking if the
wounds of grief were closed, it was cruel and unnecessary to reopen
them.

Mrs. Larcher found the photograph and gave it to James. Her husband
stood by, saying nothing.

"I think that's the best we have of him."

She shook hands, and then evidently nerved herself to say something
further.

"We're very grateful to you, Captain Parsons, for what you did. And
we're glad they gave you the Victoria Cross."

"I suppose you didn't bring it to-day?" inquired Mr. Larcher.

"I'm afraid not."

They showed him out of the front door.

"Mind you come and see us again. But let us know beforehand, if you
possibly can."

* * *

Shortly afterwards James received from the Larchers a golden
cigarette-case, with a Victoria Cross in diamonds on one side and an
inscription on the other. It was much too magnificent for use,
evidently expensive, and not in very good taste.

"I wonder whether they take that as equal in value to their son?" said
James.

Mary was rather dazzled.

"Isn't it beautiful!" she cried, "Of course, it's too valuable to use;
but it'll do to put in our drawing-room."

"Don't you think it should be kept under a glass case?" asked James,
with his grave smile.

"It'll get so dirty if we leave it out, won't it?" replied Mary,
seriously.

"I wish there were no inscription. It won't fetch so much if we get
hard-up and have to pop our jewels."

"Oh, James," cried Mary, shocked, "you surely wouldn't do a thing