"Everything that is done vaingloriously turns to ashes. From that sad thought we may take this much consolation. Ashes, as you farmers know, are great fertilisers. I know of no greater proof of God's wisdom and mercy than this: the ashes of our failures do, so I believe, cause good to bloom out of evil. "If it be true that leanness has been sent into the soul of this nation, if we have not walked humbly with God, what can be done? The answer is to be found not only in the Bible, but in every chapter of the world's history. We must make atonement by sacrifice." He paused, and many remembered that pause afterwards. The preacher stood erect, but his eyes were not on the congregation. They looked out dreamily into a world in anguish. Tears trickled down Fancy's cheeks. With her quick sensibilities, she divined that the Parson's thoughts had flown to France, where his Benjamin was fighting, not in hate, none who knew the boy could believe that, but inspired by the faith that a selfless Cause would triumph. Instantly, her own thoughts flew to Alfred. If--if sacrifice were demanded of her--? She looked up. Some intuition told her that Hamlin was ready for any sacrifice. His face appeared calm. But she became aware of tension, as if a far-seeing man were braced against impending calamity. She recalled stories current in the village after the _Lusitania_ was torpedoed: stories of men who had confronted death without a tremor. Surely, at such a moment God stood with them. Would He stand with her, if Alfred did not come back? She stole a glance at Mrs. Yellam. Her face remained impassive. But again intuition told Fancy that this outward calmness masked bitter trouble and perplexity. Timidly she slipped her hand into the hand of the old woman, pressing it gently. The pressure was not returned, because, perhaps, it may not have been felt. Mrs. Yellam, Fancy perceived, was staring at a mural tablet to the right of the pulpit, new and shining brass upon which were inscribed the names of two nephews of Captain Davenant. He had read the Lessons, as usual, but in a less rasping voice, so she had thought. She heard Hamlin's quiet tones: "Let us prepare ourselves for greater sacrifices." The rest of the sermon was devoted to particular rather than general ends. The Parson appealed, as was his wont, to the children, and the younger members of the congregation, the twigs waiting to be inclined. And to these his appeal was persuasive and suggestive, never didactic or minatory. He shone best when conducting a children's service, when he walked amongst them using the simplest words.