'Look here, father, Daisy's coming this morning. Now, you'll be civil, won't you?'
'I'm afraid he'll go and spoil everything,' said Mrs Griffith, anxiously.
At that moment there was a knock at the door. 'It's her!'
Griffith was pushed into the back room; Mrs Griffith hurriedly put on a ragged apron and went to the door.
'Daisy!' she cried, opening her arms. She embraced her daughter and pressed her to her voluminous bosom. 'Oh, Daisy!'
Daisy accepted passively the tokens of affection, with a little sad smile. She tried not to be unsympathetic. Mrs Griffith led her daughter into the sitting-room where George and Edith were sitting. George was very white.
'You don't mean to say you walked here!' said Mrs Griffith, as she shut the front door. 'Fancy that, when you could have all the carriages in Blackstable to drive you about!'
'Welcome to your home again,' said George, with somewhat the air of a dissenting minister.
'Oh, George!' she said, with the same sad, half-ironical smile, allowing herself to be kissed.
'Don't you remember me?' said Edith, coming forward. 'I'm George's wife; I used to be Edith Pollett.'