The letter was sent on a Tuesday, and on Thursday morning a telegram came from Daisy to say she was coming down. Mrs Griffith was highly agitated. 'I'll go and put on my silk dress,' she said. 'No, mother, that is a silly thing; be as shabby as you can.' 'How'll father be?' asked George. 'You'd better speak to him, Edith.' He was called, the stranger in his own house. 'Look here, father, Daisy's coming this morning. Now, you'll be civil, won't you?' 'I'm afraid he'll go and spoil everything,' said Mrs Griffith, anxiously. At that moment there was a knock at the door. 'It's her!' Griffith was pushed into the back room; Mrs Griffith hurriedly put on a ragged apron and went to the door. 'Daisy!' she cried, opening her arms. She embraced her daughter and pressed her to her voluminous bosom. 'Oh, Daisy!' Daisy accepted passively the tokens of affection, with a little sad smile. She tried not to be unsympathetic. Mrs Griffith led her daughter into the sitting-room where George and Edith were sitting. George was very white. 'You don't mean to say you walked here!' said Mrs Griffith, as she shut the front door. 'Fancy that, when you could have all the carriages in Blackstable to drive you about!' 'Welcome to your home again,' said George, with somewhat the air of a dissenting minister. 'Oh, George!' she said, with the same sad, half-ironical smile, allowing herself to be kissed. 'Don't you remember me?' said Edith, coming forward. 'I'm George's wife; I used to be Edith Pollett.' 'Oh, yes!' Daisy put out her hand. They all three looked at her, and the women noticed the elegance of her simple dress. She was no longer the merry girl they had known, but a tall, dignified woman, and her great blue eyes were very grave. They were rather afraid of her; but Mrs Griffith made an effort to be cordial and at the same time familiar. 'Fancy you being a real lady!' she said. Daisy smiled again. 'Where's father?' she asked. 'In the next room.' They moved towards the door and entered. Old Griffith rose as he saw his daughter, but he did not come towards her. She looked at him a moment, then turned to the others. 'Please leave me alone with father for a few minutes.' They did not want to, knowing that their presence would restrain him; but Daisy looked at them so firmly that they were obliged to obey. She closed the door behind them. 'Father!' she said, turning towards him. 'They made me write the letter,' he said hoarsely. 'I thought so,' she said. 'Won't you kiss me?' He stepped back as if in replusion. She looked at him with her beautiful eyes full of tears. 'I'm so sorry I've made you unhappy. But I've been unhappy too--oh, you don't know what I've gone through!... Won't you forgive me?' 'I didn't write the letter,' he repeated hoarsely; 'they stood over me and made me.'