“That doesn’t go on the same level with the others, Lady Franks,” said Arthur. “That goes much lower down—about here.”

“Are you sure?” said Lady Franks. “Doesn’t it go more here?”

“No no, no no, not at all. Here! Isn’t it so, Sybil?”

“Yes, I think so,” said Sybil.

Old Sir William stood quite silent, his breast prepared, peering over the facings of his coat to see where the star was going. The Colonel was called in, and though he knew nothing about it, he agreed with Arthur, who apparently did know something. So the star was pinned quite low down. Sir William, peeping down, exclaimed:

“Well, that is most curious now! I wear an order over the pit of my stomach! I think that is very curious: a curious place to wear an order.”

“Stand up! Stand up and let us look!” said Lady Franks. “There now, isn’t it handsome? And isn’t it a great deal of honour for one man? Could he have expected so much, in one life–time? I call it wonderful. Come and look at yourself, dear”—and she led him to a mirror.

“What’s more, all thoroughly deserved,” said Arthur.

“I should think so,” said the Colonel, fidgetting.

“Ah, yes, nobody has deserved them better,” cooed Sybil.

“Nor on more humane and generous grounds,” said the Major, sotto voce.

“The effort to save life, indeed,” returned the Major’s young wife: “splendid!”

Sir William stood naively before the mirror and looked at his three stars on his black velvet dinner–jacket.

“Almost directly over the pit of my stomach,” he said. “I hope that is not a decoration for my greedy APPETITE.” And he laughed at the young women.

“I assure you it is in position, Sir,” said Arthur. “Absolutely correct. I will read it out to you later.”

“Aren’t you satisfied? Aren’t you a proud man! Isn’t it wonderful?” said Lady Franks. “Why, what more could a man want from life? He could never EXPECT so much.”

“Yes, my dear. I AM a proud man. Three countries have honoured me—” There was a little, breathless pause.

“And not more than they ought to have done,” said Sybil.

“Well! Well! I shall have my head turned. Let me return to my own humble self. I am too much in the stars at the moment.”

Sir William turned to Arthur to have his decorations removed. Aaron, standing in the background, felt the whole scene strange, childish, a little touching. And Lady Franks was so obviously trying to console her husband: to console the frail, excitable old man with his honours. But why console him? Did he need consolation? And did she? It was evident that only the hard–money woman in her put any price on the decorations.

Aaron came forward and examined the orders, one after the other. Just metal playthings of curious shiny silver and gilt and enamel. Heavy the British one—but only like some heavy buckle, a piece of metal merely when one turned it over. Somebody dropped the Italian cross, and there was a moment of horror. But the lump of metal took no hurt. Queer to see the things stowed in their boxes again. Aaron had always imagined these mysterious decorations as shining by nature on the breasts of heroes. Pinned–on pieces of metal were a considerable come–down.