you again before I die, and to have you married from your father's
house. All is forgiven.--Your loving mother,_

'_MARY ANN GRIFFITH._'

This time the letter was returned unopened.

'George,' cried Mrs Griffith, 'she's got her back up.'

'And the wedding's to-morrow,' he replied.

'It's most awkward, George. I've told all the Blackstable people that
I've forgiven her and that Sir Herbert has written to say he wants to
make my acquaintance. And I've got a new dress on purpose to go to the
wedding. Oh! she's a cruel and exasperating thing, George; I never liked
her. You were always my favourite.'

'Well, I do think she's not acting as she should,' replied George. 'And
I'm sure I don't know what's to be done.'

But Mrs Griffith was a woman who made up her mind quickly.

'I shall go up to town and see her myself, George; and you must come
too.'

'I'll come up with you, mother, but you'd better go to her alone,
because I expect she's not forgotten the last time I saw her.'

They caught a train immediately, and having arrived at Daisy's house,
Mrs Griffith went up the steps while George waited in a neighbouring
public-house. The door was opened by a smart maid--much smarter than
the Vicarage maid at Blackstable, as Mrs Griffith remarked with
satisfaction. On finding that Daisy was at home, she sent up a message
to ask if a lady could see her.

The maid returned.

'Would you give your name, madam? Miss Griffith cannot see you without.'

Mrs Griffith had foreseen the eventuality, and, unwilling to give her
card, had written another little letter, using Edith as amanuensis, so
that Daisy should at least open it. She sent it up. In a few minutes the
maid came down again.

'There's no answer,' and she opened the door for Mrs Griffith to go out.

That lady turned very red. Her first impulse was to make a scene and
call the housemaid to witness how Daisy treated her own mother; but
immediately she thought how undignified she would appear in the maid's
eyes. So she went out like a lamb....

She told George all about it as they sat in the private bar of the
public-house, drinking a little Scotch whisky.

'All I can say,' she remarked, 'is that I hope she'll never live to
repent it. Fancy treating her own mother like that!

'But I shall go to the wedding; I don't care. I will see my own daughter
married.'

That had been her great ambition, and she would have crawled before
Daisy to be asked to the cere