"Now, come along, Ma! Are you afraid, Ma?"
It must be confessed that now at last Mary Slessor was afraid; afraid of all these eyes, though she was accustomed to facing thousands of eyes set in black faces; afraid of all these smiles, though she was accustomed to friendliness. Most of all, she was afraid of what was being said. Almost before she was seated, the Commissioner began to speak.
"Miss Slessor, I have in my hand a box which contains a silver badge of the Order of the Hospital of St. John of Jerusalem in England, of which the King is the sovereign head. This badge is conferred only on persons professing the Christian faith, who are eminently distinguished for philanthropy. It is a Maltese cross, embellished in the angles by lions and unicorns. I have been directed by the King to bestow this badge upon you in recognition of your service to the government. You have opened the country of Okoyong; you, above all others, have been instrumental in preserving peace; you have let in a great light where there was darkness; and England thanks you, her only woman consul."
Mary not only was afraid, but she looked afraid. Her head bent lower and lower, her hands were lifted to hide her face. But at last she had to rise and have the medal pinned on her shoulder. She stood for a moment, trembling; then she looked down at the pleased, attentive faces. She saw herself a little girl in Scotland and then a woman in Africa, and once again she grew calm and brave and even a little ashamed of her embarrassment. The credit for what she had done was not hers, she would tell where it belonged; then she would feel comfortable.
"If I have done anything in my life," she said, "it has been easy, because the Master has gone before."
Then she sat down neither proud nor afraid, but content.
VI
THE BOY FOR WHOM NO ONE CARED
Within the livery stable in Harrisburg there was the sound of rough voices and the tramp of horses' feet. Outside the rain fell steadily. It was six o'clock on a December morning, and the sky was still black.