The congregation filed out of the church. Many walked home in silence. Alfred Yellam booked no orders in the churchyard on that Sunday. Susan Yellam smelt no odour of baked meats as she passed the baker's. Uncle, after greeting them not so exuberantly as usual, said with conviction: "A very moving and proper discourse. 'Tis strange that me and Pa'son do think just alike. I felt as I might ha' been preaching that upliftin' sermon myself. His motter be mine--upward and onward! He be counting on me to play my part, and I shan't disapint 'un." His wife said tartly: "There be one preacher you'll never disappoint, Habakkuk." "You means Pa'son?" "I means--yourself." Uncle laughed, patting her shoulder. "Old dear, I've heard 'ee make more foolish remarks." Mrs. Yellam said no word about the sermon till the midday meal was over. When Alfred had lighted his pipe, she came and sat near him. "Alferd?" "Yes, Mother?" "There be moments when Mr. Hamlin do soar, so to speak, high above me. I be a very unhappy 'ooman this day." Alfred opened his mouth and left it open, gaping with amazement. The Parson's sermon had moved him to the marrow, particularly the references to the women, because he was well aware of the influence exercised over him by his mother and Fancy, the more percolating because he never admitted it except to himself. Nevertheless he knew that his mother was subject to moods and tenses which no ordinary man could conjugate. She held herself strictly to account upon matters affecting conduct, somewhat complacently aware that less robust spirits cited her as a model. Her cocksureness about others, oddly enough, accentuated pitifully her private opinion about Susan Yellam. From time to time Alfred alone was privileged to behold this strong woman self-shorn of her strength. He could remember well a terrible fortnight after Lizzie died, when Mrs. Yellam lay in bed and refused even his efforts to console her. The remembrance of her grim, set face came back to him now, as he stared mutely at her, wondering what he ought to say, and miserably conscious that the situation lay far beyond him. Why should his mother be unhappy? Had he been a student of history, he might have reflected that Boadicea, possibly, ruled wisely everybody except herself. Mrs. Yellam continued: "I have the notion that Mr. Hamlin expects too much o' me." "What a queer, upsetting idea!" "I be asking myself if my heart be right. It bain't." "Maybe 'tis your stomach, Mother." "No, Alferd. I be no true patriot." "Well, I never! If such a woman as you are is bogged down, where are we, I ask?" "You be in the right path, Alferd. 'Tis some comfort to think o' that. Now, let me bide wi' my own thoughts. Fancy be waiting for 'ee. Be kind to the maid, Alferd, if so be as you find her, like me, down on beam ends after this marning's sermon." "Fancy'll be all right, I wager."