XXVII

A lassitude descended upon him.  Things that had always seemed easy began to seem difficult; little bits of extra work that used to be full of pleasure now brought a fatigue that he felt he must evade; interests that he had allowed to widen without limit all at once contracted and shrank to nothing.

He surprised Mavis by telling her that he had resigned his membership of the District Council.  During the last winter he had retired from the fire brigade, and Mavis thoroughly approved of this retirement; but she thought it rather a pity that he should cease to be a councilor.  She had always liked the sound of his official designation.  Councilor Dale sounded so very grand.

The fire brigade had proved a disappointment to him.  Since its enrollment he and his men had often been useful at minor conflagrations, of ricks, cottage thatch, and kitchen flues; but they had never been given a chance of really distinguishing themselves.  They had saved no lives, nor met with any perilous risks.  However, the captain’s retirement was made the occasion of showing the regard and respect in which Mr. Dale was held by the whole neighborhood.  Secretly subscriptions had been collected for the purpose of giving Mr. Dale a testimonial, and at a very large meeting in the Rodchurch Schoolroom, it was presented by one of the most important local gentlemen.  “Mr. Dale,” said Sir Reginald, “our worthy vicar has mentioned the fact that I have come here to-night at some slight personal inconvenience; but I can assure you that if the inconvenience had been very much greater I should have come all the same.” (Considerable cheering.) “And in handing you this inscribed watch and accompanying chain, I desire to assure you on behalf of all here”—­and so on.  Dale, for his part, said that “had he guessed this testimonial was on foot, he might have been tempted to burk it, because he could not have conscientiously countenanced it.  But now accepting it, although he did not desire it, he felt quite overcome by it.  Nevertheless he would ever value it.” (Loud and prolonged cheers.) The record of all these proceedings, faithfully set forth in the Rodhaven District Courier, formed the proudest and finest snippet in Mavis’ bulging scrap album; and brought moisture to her eyes each time that she examined it anew.

“I was never more pleased,” she said, “than when I knew you wouldn’t ever have to wear your fire helmet again; but now I’m wondering if you won’t miss the Council.”

“No, Mav, I shan’t miss it.”

“One thing I’m sure of—­they’ll miss you.”

“They’ll get on very well without me, my dear.”  And then he told her that he was not quite the man he had been.  “I’m not so greedy nowadays for every opportunity of spouting out my opinions; and I’ve come to think one’s private work is enough, without putting public work on top of it.  You’ll understand, I don’t mean that I want to fold my hands and sit quiet for the rest of my days.  But I do seem to feel the need of taking things a little lighter than I used to do.”