Winona, of course, ought to have replaced it on its peg on the wall, but her memory was far from perfect, and she completely forgot all about it.
The whole thing seemed a most trivial incident, but it had an amazing sequel.

On Saturday afternoons Mrs.Fisher, the caretaker, always came to sweep and tidy up the church in preparation for Sunday.

She was a little, thin, sharp-nosed, impulsive woman, and just at present her nerves were rather in a shaky condition for fear of Zeppelins.

She lived in perpetual terror of bombs or German spies, and always slept with half her clothing on, in case she should be forced to get up in a hurry and flee for her life.

On this particular Saturday afternoon Mrs.Fisher, as was her wont, washed the pavement of the nave, and then took her broom and her duster into the side chapel.