u art standing_
_Outside the fast closed door,_
_In lowly patience waiting_
_To pass the threshold o'er;_
_We bear the name of Christians_....

Miss Reed held the book rather close to her face, being shortsighted;
but, without even lifting her eyes, she had become aware of the entrance
of Mrs Griffith and George. She glanced significantly at Mrs Howlett. Mr
Griffith hadn't come, although he was churchwarden, and Mrs Howlett gave
an answering look which meant that it was then evidently quite true. But
they both gathered themselves together for the last verse, taking
breath.

_O Jesus, thou art pleading_
_In accents meek and low_....

A--A--men! The congregation fell to its knees, and the curate, rolling
his eyes to see who was in church, began gabbling the morning
prayers--'_Dearly beloved brethren._' ...

II

At the Sunday dinner, the vacant place of Daisy Griffith stared at them.
Her father sat at the head of the table, looking down at his plate, in
silence; every now and then, without raising his head, he glanced up at
the empty space, filled with a madness of grief.... He had gone into
Tercanbury in the morning, inquiring at the houses of all Daisy's
friends, imagining that she had spent the night with one of them. He
could not believe that George Browning's story was true, he could so
easily have been mistaken in the semi-darkness of the station. And even
he had gone to the barracks--his cheeks still burned with the
humiliation--asking if they knew a Daisy Griffith.

He pushed his plate away with a groan. He wished passionately that it
were Monday, so that he could work. And the post would surely bring a
letter, explaining.

'The vicar asked where you were,' said Mrs Griffith.

Robert, the father, looked at her with his pained eyes, but her eyes
were hard and shining, her lips almost disappeared in the tight closing
of the mouth. She was willing to believe the worst. He looked at his
son; he was frowning; he looked as coldly angry as the mother. He, too,
was willing to believe everything, and they neither seemed very
sorry.... Perhaps they were even glad.

'I was the only one who loved her,' he muttered to himself, and pushing
back his chair he got up and left the room. He almost tottered; he had
aged twenty years in the night.

'Aren't you going to have any pudding?' asked his wife.

He made no answer.

He walked out into the courtyard quite aimlessly, but the for