“... grant that this day we fall into no sin, neither run into any kind of danger: but that all our doings may be ordered by Thy governance to do that which is right....” Mr. Smart’s voice brought back the church, the choir with two girls in large flowered hats, the little boys, Mr. Hart, the butcher, and Mr. Swithan, the grocer, the broad backs in the family pew. Aunt Aggie, Aunt Betty, Henry, Mrs. Trenchard, Millie, Philip, George Trenchard, Rachel Seddon (the family pew was a hideous box with a door to it, and you could see only the top half of the Trenchards.... They, however, could see everything: Mrs. Trenchard could see the choir, and the choir knew it). Because Katherine was never late, therefore was she denied the opportunity of studying the Collective Trenchard Back. To-day she had it in front of her, and it seemed, suddenly, to be something with which she herself had no concern at all. For an amazing, blinding, and most desolating moment she viewed the Trenchards as a stranger might view them. Her loneliness was appalling. She belonged to no one. She had no place nor country: her mother and Philip had left her ... only a strange woman, watching her to see what she would do, laughed at her. As she stood up and Mr. Smart gave out the hymn, she saw that there was a hole in her glove. She felt shabby and hot, and covered the hole with her other hand, because during that moment she was positively, actively conscious of the other woman’s curious, hostile gaze; then, as the hymn began, security came back to her—her heart beat quietly again. * * * * * “Why were you late, dear?” said Aunt Aggie, walking back through the wood. “I dawdled.” “Dawdled! How unlike you, dear! I remember years ago when I dawdled one Sunday mother saying ... Oh, dear, there it begins again!” “Is your tooth bad?” “Never mind, dear, say nothing about it. The last thing I should wish for would be a fuss. I thought poor Mr. Smart at his very worst this morning. Since his last child was born he’s never preached a good sermon. Really, it’s difficult to be patient with him.” “Have you done anything for it, Aunt Aggie?” “Iodine. It comes and goes. If it were only steady....” Katherine knew that it was of the utmost importance to be sympathetic, but all that she could think of in her head was, “How silly to worry about a tooth! How silly to worry about a tooth!...” She knew at once that Aunt Aggie saw that she was unsympathetic, and that she resented it deeply. “Mind you say nothing, dear,” she said, as they crossed the lawn. “You know that I hate a fuss.” And Katherine, who had stopped on the grass and was staring at the horizon, did not even answer. Then Aunt Betty came up and said: “What a delightful sermon! Mr. Smart gets better and better.” Aunt Aggie did not trust herself to speak.