"Yes, Dank. You put it there yourself." "I didn't. My hat hasn't got a beastly black band on it." He rose violently, knocking his head against the carriage roof. "Here--I must get out of this." He tugged at the window-strap, hanging on to it and swaying as he tugged. She dragged him back into his seat. "Sit down and keep quiet." She put her hand on his wrist and held it. Down the road the bell of Renton Church began tolling. He turned and looked at her unsteadily, his dark eyes showing bloodshot as they swerved. "Mary--is Roddy really dead?" A warm steam of brandy came and went with his breathing. "Yes. That's why you must keep quiet." Mr. Rollitt was standing at the open gate of the churchyard. He was saying something that she didn't hear. Then he swung round solemnly. She saw the flash of his scarlet hood. Then the coffin. She began to walk behind it, between two rows of villagers, between Dorsy Heron and Mr. Sutcliffe. She went, holding Dan tight, pulling him closer when he lurched, and carrying his tall hat in her hand. Close before her face the head of Roddy's coffin swayed and swung as the bearers staggered. XI. "Roddy ought never to have gone to Canada." Her mother had turned again, shaking the big bed. They would sleep together for three nights; then Aunt Bella would come, as she came when Papa died. "But your Uncle Victor would have his own way." "He didn't know." She thought: "But _I_ knew. I knew and I let him go. Why did I?" It seemed to her that it was because, deep down inside her, she had wanted him to go. Deep down inside her she had been afraid of the unhappiness that would come through Roddy. "And I don't think," her mother said presently, "it _could_ have been very good for him, building that wall." "You didn't know." She thought: "I'd have known. If I'd been here it wouldn't have happened. I wouldn't have let him. I'd no business to go away and leave him. I might have known." "Lord, if Thou hadst been here our brother had not died." The yellow coffin swayed before her eyes, heaped with the white flowers. Yellow and white. Roddy's dog. His yellow dog with a white breast and white paws. And a rope round his neck. Roddy thought he had hanged him. At seven she got up and dressed and dusted the drawing-room. She dusted everything very carefully, especially the piano. She would never want to play on it again. The side door stood open. She went out. In the bed by the flagged path she saw the sunk print of Roddy's foot and the dead daffodil stalk lying in it. Mamma had been angry. She had forgotten that. She had forgotten everything that happened in the minutes before Catty had come down the passage. She filled in the footprint and stroked the earth smooth above it, lest Mamma should see it and remember. XXVII I. Potnia, Potnia Nux--