Miss Bartlett at once came forward, and after a long preamble asked a great favour: might she go to church? Mr. Beebe and his mother had already gone, but she had refused to start until she obtained her hostess's full sanction, for it would mean keeping the horse waiting a good ten minutes more.

“Certainly,” said the hostess wearily. “I forgot it was Friday. Let's all go. Powell can go round to the stables.”

“Lucy dearest — ”

“No church for me, thank you.”

A sigh, and they departed. The church was invisible, but up in the darkness to the left there was a hint of colour. This was a stained window, through which some feeble light was shining, and when the door opened