news had spread all over the village.

"It was brought in a motor car," Mrs. Pikes at the shop informed her
customers, "and Wilson's little boy says he heard them talking German."

"There was a foreign-looking sort of a chap rode past our house on a
bicycle the other day," volunteered the blacksmith's assistant.

"You never know where you are with strangers in war time," said another.

Everybody agreed that it was a mercy Mrs. Fisher had seen it when she
did, and they were glad the church was a goodish way from the village.

The Woodward family generally started off for service almost directly
after the bells began to ring. On the following Sunday morning, however,
they were considerably perplexed. The familiar "ding-dong, ding-dong"
which ought to have been pealing forth was not to be heard. They
listened in vain, and consulted all the clocks in the house.

"It's certainly after ten," said Mrs. Woodward. "I'm afraid something
must have happened! I hope Mr. James isn't ill. Well, we'd better go at
any rate, and see what's the matter."

So the family, which was ready in its best Sunday garments, sallied
forth. Ashbourne Church stood a whole mile away from the village, in a
lonely spot with only a couple of cottages near it. The Woodwards took a
short cut across the common from Highfield, so that they did not pass
any houses or meet any neighbors by the way. They arrived at the church
to find the door locked, and the Vicar and his family standing in
consternation outside. Mr. James hailed them with relief.