worked for them for many years now. All over the country. Tonight on his way home he had stopped in at the T.A.B. and put two bob on “Bright Star” for the trots at Forbury the next day. He had for a while contemplated going into “The Cliffs” hotel for a spot, but told himself he didn't need it. And anyway he didn't feel like it so what was the use of having one. “It's only a damn habit, this stopping off to have one before tea,” he told himself. He thought of the men who would be half-drunk by now, red-faced and blearyeyed, swaying at the bar, and he smiled to himself. “Bill old boy,” he said, “you're got them all licked. You're not too bad.” He turned now and continued up the incline. His legs and back were both aching. This caused him to walk with his back arched and leaning slightly forward with one hand to the small of his back. “Rheumatism”, he thought, and this scared him a little. When he came abreast of the small grocer's shop he paused in his old man's way. Partly through habit, partly because subconsciously he knew there was something he had intended buying. “What is it?” he asked himself. “Oh yes, tobacco.” He walked into the small shop and rang the bell. There was no answer for a while, then a stir in the kitchen out back, and the owner, a middle-aged family man, came in through the curtains that hung over the doorway. “How do you do?” “Good evening,” old Bill Evans replied. “And how are you?” “Not so bad.” “Could I get a packet of Park Drive?—Better give's a book of papers too, please. Zig Zag. I'll take a packet of matches as well, too, while I'm at it.” “Think it'll hold for the weekend?” the storekeeper asked. “Oh, it looks all right,” old Bill said. “But it's hard to say with this weather. I hope it holds, though.” “Going out to Forbury tomorrow?” the storekeeper asked. “No, I'll stay back and listen on the radio. I'll be working right up to lunch time tomorrow so I don't think I'll have much time to get out there. I'm not feeling the best, either. I think I'll just stay around the house.” The shopkeeper gave a quick glance out the window behind old Bill. “Should be a good day, tomorrow. ‘Adonis’ should go well, even ‘Bright Star’ might pull it off. He's got a good chance.” “I've got five bob in him for a win,” old Bill said. “Hullo …” “Pardon?” “Oh no, it's all right,” old Bill said. He was feeling in his pockets for some money to pay for the tobacco. He had in his hand now a two and sixpenny bit that he could not account for. It came from the left-hand pocket of his coat and he knew that that was where he had put the change that the old gentleman in the T.A.B. had given him. “Something wrong here,” he said half aloud. The shopkeeper was looking at him, a doubtful smile on his thin freckled face. Old Bill looked at him. “Oh, it's nothing,” he said to the man. “I think someone gave me too much change, that's all.” I gave him ten bob, he was thinking. I put the change straight into this pocket. I remember that. I only put five bob on “Bright Star” and now I've got 7/6. He must have given me 2/6 too much. He must have. I wasn't taking much notice. Well, there's no question about it. I'll take it back. I'll probably miss my tea, though. Oh well, it's about time I shouted myself a meal out anyway. He paid the shopkeeper and took his small parcel and started off back, through the door and down the street where he had just come. There was no doubt in his mind at all. There was no hesitating, no thought as to whether or not he should return the 2/6 to the cashier in the T.A.B. “Mind you,” he was telling himself, “I might not be like this on some occasion. But tonight, there's just no question of it.” He took his watch from