mony.... But George dissuaded her from
going uninvited. There were sure to be one or two Blackstable people
present, and they would see that she was there as a stranger; the
humiliation would be too great.

'I think she's an ungrateful girl,' said Mrs Griffith, as she gave way
and allowed George to take her back to Blackstable.

XII

But the prestige of the Griffiths diminished. Everyone in Blackstable
came to the conclusion that the new Lady Ously-Farrowham had been very
badly treated by her relatives, and many young ladies said they would
have done just the same in her place. Also Mrs Gray induced her husband
to ask Griffith to resign his churchwardenship.

'You know, Mr Griffith,' said the vicar, deprecatingly, 'now that your
wife goes to chapel I don't think we can have you as churchwarden any
longer; and besides, I don't think you've behaved to your daughter in a
Christian way.'

It was in the carpenter's shop; the business had dwindled till Griffith
only kept one man and a boy; he put aside the saw he was using.

'What I've done to my daughter, I'm willing to take the responsibility
for; I ask no one's advice and I want no one's opinion; and if you think
I'm not fit to be churchwarden you can find someone else better.'

'Why don't you make it up with your daughter, Griffith?'

'Mind your own business!'

The carpenter had brooded and brooded over his sorrow till now his
daughter's name roused him to fury. He had even asserted a little
authority over his wife, and she dared not mention her daughter before
him. Daisy's marriage had seemed like the consummation of her shame; it
was vice riding triumphant in a golden chariot....

But the name of Lady Ously-Farrowham was hardly ever out of her mother's
lips; and she spent a good deal more money in her dress to keep up her
dignity.

'Why, that's another new dress you've got on!' said a neighbour.

'Yes,' said Mrs Griffith, complacently, 'you see we're in quite a
different position now. I have to think of my daughter, Lady
Ously-Farrowham. I don't want her to be ashamed of her mother. I had
such a nice long letter from her the other day. She's so happy with Sir
Herbert. And Sir Herbert's so good to her.' ...

'Oh, I didn't know you were.' ...

'Oh, yes! Of course she was a little--well, a little wild when she was a
girl, but _I've_ forgiven that. It's her father won't forgive her. He
always was a hard man, and he never loved her as I did. She wants to