n't think we'd better let father see it,' Mrs Griffith said, a
little uncertainly; 'it'll do no good and it'll only distress him.'

'And it's no good making a fuss, because we can't have her back.'

'She'll never enter this door as long as I'm in the world.... I think
I'll lock it up.'

'I'd burn it, if I was you, mother. It's safer.'

Then every day Mrs Griffith made a point of going to the door herself
for the letters. Two more came from Daisy.

_'I know it's not you; it's mother and George. They've always hated
me. Oh, don't be so cruel, father! You don't know what I've gone
through. I've cried and cried till I thought I should die. For
God's sake write to me! They might let you write just once. I'm
alone all day, day after day, and I think I shall go mad. You might
take me back; I'm sure I've suffered enough, and you wouldn't know
me now, I'm so changed. Tell mother that if she'll only forgive me
I'll be quite different. I'll do the housework and anything she
tells me. I'll be a servant to you, and you can send the girl
away. If you knew how I repent! Do forgive me and have me back. Oh,
I know that no one would speak to me; but I don't care about that,
if I can only be with you!'_

'She doesn't think about us,' said George--'what we should do if she was
back. No one would speak to us either.'

But the next letter said that she couldn't bear the terrible silence; if
her father didn't write she'd come down to Blackstable. Mrs Griffith was
furious.

'I'd shut the door in her face; I wonder how she can dare to come.'

'It's jolly awkward,' said George. 'Supposing father found out we'd kept
back the letters?'

'It was for his own good,' said Mrs Griffith, angrily. 'I'm not ashamed
of what I've done, and I'll tell him so to his face if he says anything
to me.'

'Well, it is awkward. You know what father is; if he saw her.'...

Mrs Griffith paused a moment.

'You must go up and see her, George!'

'Me!' he cried in astonishment, a little in terror.

'You must go as if you came from your father, to say we won't have
anything more to do with her and she's not to write.'

VII

Next day George Griffith, on getting out of the station at Victoria,
jumped on a Fulham 'bus, taking his seat with the self-assertiveness of
the countryman who intends to show the Londoners that he's as good as
they are. He was in some trepidation and his best clothes. He