How she received it, I did not know. It had been
impossible to question Marigold. After all, it was a matter of no
essential moment. I consoled myself with the reflection and tried
to go to sleep. But I passed a wretched night, my head whirling
with the day's happenings.
The morning papers showed me that Boyce, wishing to spare his
mother, had been wise to summon me at once. They all published an
official paragraph describing the act for which he had received
his distinction, and announcing the fact of his blindness. They
also gave a brief and flattering sketch of his career. One paper
devoted to him a short leading article. The illustrated papers
published his photograph. Boyce was on the road to becoming a
popular hero.
Cliffe kept me in bed all that day, to my great irritation. I had
no converse with the outside world, save vicariously with Betty,
who rang up to enquire after my health. On the following morning,
when I drove abroad with Hosea, I found the whole town ringing
with Boyce. It was a Friday, the day of publication of the local
newspaper. It had run to extravagant bills all over the place:
"Wellingsford Hero honoured by the King.
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