The existence of the Griffith household went on calmly. Husband and wife and son led their life in the dull little fishing town, the seasons passed insensibly into one another, one year slid gradually into the next; and the five years that went by seemed like one long, long day. Mrs Griffith did not alter an atom; she performed her housework, went to church regularly, and behaved like a Christian woman in that state of life in which a merciful Providence had been pleased to put her. George got married, and on Sunday afternoons could be seen wheeling an infant in a perambulator along the street. He was a good husband and an excellent father. He never drank too much, he worked well, he was careful of his earnings, and he also went to church regularly; his ambition was to become churchwarden after his father. And even in Mr Griffith there was not so very much change. He was more bowed, his hair and beard were greyer. His face was set in an expression of passive misery, and he was extremely silent. But as Mrs Griffith said,-- 'Of course, he's getting old. One can't expect to remain young for ever'--she was a woman who frequently said profound things--'and I've known all along he wasn't the sort of man to make old bones. He's never had the go in him that I have. Why, I'd make two of him.' The Griffiths were not so well-to-do as before. As Blackstable became a more important health resort, a regular undertaker opened a shop there; and his window, with two little model coffins and an arrangement of black Prince of Wales's feathers surrounded by a white wreath, took the fancy of the natives, so that Mr Griffith almost completely lost the most remunerative part of his business. Other carpenters sprang into existence and took away much of the trade. 'I've no patience with him,' said Mrs Griffith, of her husband. 'He lets these newcomers come along and just take the bread out of his hands. Oh, if I was a man, I'd make things different, I can tell you! He doesn't seem to care.'... * * * * * At last, one day George came to his mother in a state of tremendous excitement. 'I say, mother, you know the pantomime they've got at Tercanbury this week?' 'Yes.' 'Well, the principal boy's Daisy.' Mrs Griffith sank into a chair, gasping. 'Harry Ferne's been, and he recognised her at once. It's all over the town.' Mrs Griffith, for the first time in her life, was completely at a loss for words. 'To-morrow's the last night,' added her son, after a little while, 'and all the Blackstable people are going.' 'To think that this should happen to me!' said Mrs Griffith, distractedly. 'What have I done to deserve it? Why couldn't it happen to Mrs Garman or Mrs Jay? If the Lord had seen fit to bring it upon them--well, I shouldn't have wondered.' 'Edith wants us to go,' said George--Edith was his wife. 'You don't mean to say you're going, with all the Blackstable people there?'