Resolutely, she put this thought from her. God's ways might be mysterious, but surely, surely He would stand by this frail creature, and temper the wind to her. Even to ask Him to do so seemed impertinent. Prayer came to her lips and fluttered away. She closed them tightly. All would go well, because of those four graves in the churchyard. She had visited them on the previous Sunday. They were certainly a credit to her. She washed the marble cross upon Lizzie's grave twice a year, and planted flowers on each plot. Coming out of church, strangers would pause to look at the Yellam reservation. If they read the carefully-selected inscriptions, Mrs. Yellam would feel much uplifted. In her square, brass-cornered desk, lay a sealed paper containing instructions concerning her own funeral. A plain slab would tell other strangers the date of her birth and death, her name, and her destination. "Gone Home" was to be chiselled upon grey granite, and filled in with leaded letters. Death had never dismayed her. When her work was done, she would be called. Fancy woke up, still smiling. "You had a nice doze, dear. Pleasant dreams, too." "Yes," said Fancy. But she couldn't remember her dreams. As she got out of her chair to go upstairs, she said: "This has been a happy day, Mother. I must remember it. What is the day of the month?" Mrs. Yellam answered promptly: "It be the fifteenth of December. Only ten days to Christmas." Mrs. Yellam never forgot this date. Word came to her some days later. On the fifteenth of December, a night attack was made upon German trenches, an affair of small importance, not even mentioned in the papers. When the men returned to their dug-outs, Sergeant Yellam was reported--_Missing_. CHAPTER XVIII MISSING! Everybody assured Mrs. Yellam that Alfred had been taken prisoner. Uncle was doubtful whether any nephew of his could be taken prisoner, but he did not say this before his sister. The Squire, good fellow, spent time and money over telegrams to the Colonel commanding Alfred's battalion. And the answer confirmed popular opinion that Alfred, by now, was in Germany, where prisoners of war--so Sir Geoffrey assured Mrs. Yellam, received more humane treatment. The dead and wounded, after the night attack, had been brought in. Alfred was not amongst them. And therefore a prisoner. His Colonel, without a word from Sir Geoffrey, expressed that as his positive belief. Fancy, very white and anxious, hugged such belief to her small bosom. She said to Mrs. Yellam: "Alfred will come back." Mrs. Yellam kissed her, muttering: "Yes, yes. You be a brave lil' 'ooman." But Susan Yellam was dissembling. Iron had entered her soul again, iron and ice. To Uncle and Solomon she admitted this. "He be dead, Habakkuk. I knows it. They Proosians 'd never take Alferd alive. He be dead, and so be I." Poor Uncle fell back upon fool-wisdom.