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During those weeks she investigated Skeaton very thoroughly。 She found that her Skeaton； the Skeaton of Fashion and the Church； was a very small affair consisting of two rows of villas； some detached houses that trickled into the country； and a little clump of villas on a hill over the sea beyond the town。 There were not more than fifty souls all told in this regiment of Fashion； and the leaders of the fifty were Mrs。 Constantine； Mrs。 Maxse； Miss Purves； a Mrs。 Tempest （a large black tragic creature）； and Miss Grace Trenchard… and they had for their male supporters Colonel Maxse； Mr。 William Tempest； a Mr。 Purdie （rich and idle）； and the Reverend Paul。 Maggie discovered that the manners； habits； and even voices and gestures of this sacred Fifty were all the same。 The only question upon which they divided was one of residence。 The richer and finer division spent several weeks of the winter abroad in places like Nice and Cannes； and the poorer contingent took their holiday from Skeaton in the summer in Glebeshire or the Lake District。 The Constantines and the Maxses were very fine indeed because they went both to Cannes in the winter and Scotland in the summer。 It was wonderful； considering how often Mrs。 Constantine was away from Skeaton； how solemn and awe…inspiring an impression she made and retained in the Skeaton world。 Maggie discovered that unless you had a large house with independent grounds outside the town it was impossible to remain in Skeaton during the summer months。 Oh！ the trippers！ 。 。 。Oh！ the trippers！ Yes； they were terrible…swallowed up the sands； eggshells； niggers； pierrots； bathing…machines； vulgarity； moonlight embracing； noise； sand； and dust。 If you were any one at all you did not stay in Skeaton during the summer months…unless； as I have said； you were so grand that you could disregard it altogether。
It happened that these weeks were wet and windy and Maggie was blown about from one end of the town to the other。 There could be no denying that it was grim and ugly under these conditions。 It might be that when the spring came there would be flowers in the gardens and the trees would break out into fresh green and the sands would gleam with mother…of…pearl and the sea would glitter with sunshine。 All that perhaps would come。 Meanwhile there was not a house that was not hideous； the wind tore screaming down the long beaches carrying with it a flurry of tempestuous rain； whilst the sea itself moved in sluggish oily coils； dirt…grey to the grey horizon。 Worst of all perhaps were the deserted buildings at other times dedicated to gaiety； ghosts of places they were with torn paper flapping against their sides and the wind tearing at their tin…plated roofs。 Then there was the desolate little station； having； it seemed； no connection with any kind of traffic…and behind all this the woods howled and creaked and whistled； derisive； provocative； the only creatures alive in all that world。
Between the Fashion and the Place the Church stood as a bridge。
Centuries ago； when Skeaton had been the merest hamlet clustered behind the beach； the Church had been there…not the present building； looking； poor thing； as though it were in a perpetual state of scarlet fever； but a shabby humble little chapel close to the sea sheltered by the sandy hill。
The present temple had been built about 1870 and was considered very satisfactory。 It was solid and free from draughts and took the central heating very well。 The graveyard also was new and shiny； with no bones in it remoter than the memories of the present generation could compass。 The church clock was a very late addition …put up by subscription five years ago…and its clamour was so up to date and smart that it was a cross between the whistle of a steam… engine and a rich and prosperous dinner…bell。
All this was rightly felt to be very satisfactory。 As Miss Purves said： 〃So far as the dear Church goes； no one had any right to complain about anything。〃
When Maggie had first arrived in Skeaton her duties with regard to the Church were made quite plain to her。 She was expected to take one of the classes in Sunday school； to attend Choir practice on Friday evening； to be on the Committees for Old Women's Comforts； Our Brave Lads' Guild； and the Girls' Friendly Society； to look after the flowers for the Altar； and to attend Paul's Bible Class on Wednesdays。
She had no objection to any of these things…they were； after all； part of her 〃job。〃 She found that they amused her； and her life must be full； full； full。〃 No time to thinkNo time to think；〃 some little voice far； far within her cried。 But on Grace's return difficulties at once arose。 Grace had； hitherto； done all these things。 She had； as she called it； 〃Played a large part in the life of our Church。〃 She was bored with them all； the Choir practices； the Committees； the Altar flowers； and the rest； she was only too pleased that Maggie should do the hard workit was quite fair that she； Grace； should have a rest。 At the same time she did not at all want to surrender the power that doing these things had given her。 She did not wish Maggie to take her place； but she wanted her to support the burden…very difficult this especially if you are not good at 〃thinking things out。〃
Grace never could 〃think things out。〃 It seemed as though her thoughts loved wilfully to tease and confuse her。 Then when she was completely tangled； and bewildered； her temper rose； slowly； stealthily； but with a mighty force behind it； suddenly as a flood bursts the walls that have been trying to resist it； it would sweep the chambers of her mind； submerging； drowning the flock of panic… stricken little ideas。
She then would 〃lose her temper〃 so much to her own surprise that she at once decided that some one else must be responsible。 A few days after her return she decided that she 〃must not let these things go；〃 so she told Maggie that she would attend the Committee of Old Women's Comforts and be responsible for the Choir practice。 But on her return to these functions she found that she was bored and tired and cross； they were really intolerable； she had been doing them for years and years and years。 It was too bad that Maggie should suffer her to take them on her shoulders。 What did Maggie think she was a clergyman's wife for？ Did Maggie imagine that there were no responsibilities attached to her position？
Grace did not say these things； but she thought them。 She did not of course admit to herself that she wanted Maggie both to go and not to go。 She simply knew that there was a 〃grievance〃 and Maggie was responsible for it。 But at present she was silent 。 。 。
The next factor in the rapidly developing situation was Mr。 Toms。 One day early in April Maggie went for a little walk by herself along the lane that led to Marsden Wood。 Marsden Wood was the most sinister of all the woods； there had once been a murder there； but even had there not； the grim bleakness of the trees and bushes； the absence of all clear paths through its tangles and thickets made it a sinister place。 She turned at the very edge of the wood and set her face back towards Skeaton。
The day had been wild and windy with recurrent showers of rain； but now there