Reddin went in search of Hazel, while Mr. James began to read the
names.

'Mr. Thomas. Mr. James. Mrs. Marston. Mr. James--'

He handed the pile of shillings to Miss Clomber, who presented them
with the usual fatuous remarks. When he had won the prize he received it
back from her with a bow, taking off his hat. As his own name occurred
more frequently than usual, he began to get rather self-conscious. He
looked round the ring of faces, and translated their stodginess as
self-consciousness dictated.

Perhaps it would be as well to carry it off as a jest? So his hat came
off with a flourish, and he said jocosely as he took the next heap,
'Keeping-apples, Mr. James. I'll put it in me pocket!'

This attitude wearing thin, he took refuge in that of unimpeachable
honesty. 'Fair and square! The best man wins!' This lasted for some
time, but was not proof against 'Swedes, Mr. James. Mangolds, Mr.
James. Stewing pears, Mr. James.' He began to get in a panic. His bow
was cursory. He pocketed the money furtively and read his name in a
low, apologetic tone. But this would never do! He must pull himself
together. He tried bravado.

'Mr. Vessons. Mr. James.'

Vessons stood immovable within arm's reach of Miss Clomber. When he got
a prize, which he did three times, no one else having sent any cheeses,
he extended his arm like one side of a pair of compasses, and
vouchsafed neither bow nor smile. He disliked Miss Clomber because he