Nothing else -- no other words -- nothing but that age old plea -- the old , old cry of supreme agony and appeal , from the human heart whose every human staff has failed it . `` Is God dead ? '' asked a startled little voice from the doorway of the living-room . Jims stood there , flushed from sleep , his big brown eyes filled with dread , `` Oh Willa -- oh , Willa , is God dead ? '' Miss Oliver stopped walking and exclaiming , and stared at Jims , in whose eyes tears of fright were beginning to gather . Rilla ran to his comforting , while Susan bounded up from the chair upon which she had dropped . `` No , '' she said briskly , with a sudden return of her real self . `` No , God is n't dead -- nor Lloyd George either . We were forgetting that , Mrs. Dr. dear . Do n't cry , little Kitchener . Bad as things are , they might be worse . The British line may be broken but the British navy is not . Let us tie to that . I will take a brace and get up a bite to eat , for strength we must have . '' They made a pretence of eating Susan 's `` bite , '' but it was only a pretence . Nobody at Ingleside ever forgot that black afternoon . Gertrude Oliver walked the floor -- they all walked the floor ; except Susan , who got out her grey war sock . `` Mrs. Dr. dear , I must knit on Sunday at last . I have never dreamed of doing it before for , say what might be said , I have considered it was a violation of the third commandment . But whether it is or whether it is not I must knit today or I shall go mad . ''
`` Knit if you can , XXXXX , '' said Mrs. Blythe restlessly .
George Ingleside Jims Kitchener Rilla Susan Willa afternoon third war