Esther Waters

hung over the door. On the wall were two pictures-a girl with a basket of flowers, the coloured supplement of an illustrated newspaper, and an old and dilapidated la

egetables. She hadn't answered, and the cook had turned her out of the kitchen. She had rushed from the house under the momentary sway of hope that she might succeed in walking back to London; but William had overtaken her in the avenue, he had expostulated with her, he had refused to allow her to pass. She had striven to tear herself from him, and, failing, had burst into tears. However, he had been kind, and at la

falling wall; and she lay heavily, one arm thrown forward, her short, square face raised to the light. She slept so deeply that for a moment

time i

just g

er each other. This is no room to put two girls to sleep in-one glass not much bigger than your hand. You'll have to get your box under your bed.... In my last pla

did not

oom to put two girls to sleep in

ce before. Margaret was too much engrossed in her

t if it weren't for the old cook: she must have her little bit out of everything and she cuts us short in our bacon in the mornin

e moment I came in the house, before

n-maid. But last night she was pressed, there was company to dinner. I'd

ecause a gi

nd walked to the door for her dress. She was a pretty girl, with a snub nose and large, clear eyes. Her hair was lighter in

er prayers when Margaret turned

exclaimed. "Do you th

ooked up

s, but I wouldn't before the others if I was you-th

o wicked. But I am afraid I shan't be long her

had not been long gone when the squire and his son Arthur appeared in the yard. The Gaffer, as he was called, was a man of about medium height. He wore breeches and gaiters, and in them his legs seemed grotesquely thick. His son was a narrow-chested, undersized young man, absurdly thin and hatchet-faced. He was also in breeches and gaiters, and to his boots were attached long-necked spurs. His pale yellow hair gave him a somewhat ludicrous appearance, as h

betting was twenty to one, and I won twelve and six pence. Grover won thirty shillings. They say that John-that's the butler-won a little fortune; but he is so close no one knows what he has on. Cook wouldn't have

onour he had to take from the money placed in his charge, confidently hoping to return it in a few months. The squire's misfortunes anticipated the realization of his intentions; proceedings were threatened, but were withdrawn when Mrs. Latch came forward with all her savings and volunteered to forego her wages for a term of years. Old Latch died soon after, some lucky bets set the squire on his legs again, the matter was half forgotten, and in the next generation it became the legend of the Latch family. But to Mrs. Latch it was an incurable grief, and to remove her son from influences which, in her opinion, had

g," said Margaret; "Silver Braid was stripped-you

Esther. "They are not carriage-hors

ave you been to all this while-can't

and murmured something w

it came to the Gaffer's ears. I believe that it was Mr. Leopold that told; he finds out everything. But I was telling you how I learnt about the race-horses. It was from Jim Story-Jim was my pal-Sarah is after William, you know, the fellow who brought you into the kitchen last night. Jim could never talk about anything but the 'osses. We'd go every night an

London? She did not know if that was possible. She did not know how far she had come-a long distance, no doubt. She had seen woods, hills, rivers, and towns flying past. Never would she be able to find her way back through that endless country; besides, she could not carry her box on her back.... What was she to do? Not a friend, not a penny in the

the table afresh. Those who had gone were the stable folk, and breakfast had now to be prepared for the other servants. The person in the dark green dress who spoke with her chin in the air, whose nose had been pinched to purple just above the nostrils, w

, coal to fetch for the fire. She worked steadily without flagging, fearful of Mrs. Barfield, who would come down, no doubt, about ten o'clock to order dinn

down the passage and overwhelmed him with questions, crowding around him, asking both together if Silver Braid had won his trial, he testily pushed them aside, declaring that if he had a race-horse he would not have a woman-servant in t

old us which won. He has known the Gaffer so long that he kno

y," said Margaret. "Peggy hates him; you know the way she skulks about the back

n in my kitchen," said Mrs. Latch. "Do you see th

were, and a great deal of time was wasted. "Don't you move, I might as well get it myself," said the old woman. Mr. Randal, too, lost his temper, for she had no hot plates ready, nor could she distinguish between those that were to go to the dining-room and those that were to go to the servants' hall. She understood, howev

andy-haired man about forty: he was beginning to show signs of stoutness, and two little round whiskers grew out of his pallid cheeks. Mr. Randal sat at the end of the table helping the pudding. He addressed the sandy-haired man as Mr. Swindles; but Esther learnt afterwards his real name was Ward, and that he was Mr. Barfield's head groom. She learnt, too, that "the Demon" was not the real name of the

rised at the admiration he seemed so easily to command and the important position he seemed to occupy, notwithstanding his diminutive stature, whereas the bigger boys were treated with very little consideration. The long-nosed lad, with weak eyes an

d when his name is Mr. Randal?" Est

tty near as rich, if the truth was known-won a pile over the

the City," Esther

the moment I got into the dip. The Tinman nearly caught me on the post-came with a terrifi

ce of which was sent to the Demon. "That for a dinner!" and as he took up his knife and fork and cut a small piece of his one slice, he said, "I suppose you never had to reduce yourself three pounds; girls never have. I do

e Beecham's

hing. Can you t

d the question and burst into a roar of laughter. Everyone wanted to know what

ughing open-mouthed. It was a bare room, lit with one window, against which Mrs. Latch's austere figure appeared in dark-grey silhouette. The window looked on one o

says Jim, the moment the Gaffer is out of hearing. But this morning we were on ahead, and the Gaffer had Jim all to himself. As usual he says, 'Now do you quite understand?' and as usual Jim says, 'Yes, sir; yes, sir.' Suspecting that Jim had not understood, I said when he joined us, 'Now if you are not sure what he said you had better go back and ask him,' but Jim declared that he had perfectly understood. 'And what did he tell you to do?' said I. 'He told me,' says Jim, 'to

arn," replied Jim, and to change the conversation he asked Mr. Leopold for some more pudding, and the Demon's hungry ey

one would think that it was you who was

hrew him backwards into his seat surprised and howling. "Yer nasty thing!" he blubbered out. "Couldn't you see it was only a joke?" But passion was hot in Esther. She had understood no word that had been said since she had sat down to dinner, and, conscious of her poverty and her ignorance, she imagined that a great deal of the Demon's conversation had been d

-boys that the servants' hall is not the harness

wipe your eyes and have a piece of currant tart, or leave the room. I want to hear from Mr. Swindles an accoun

w, seven pounds, no more, worse than Bayleaf. Ginger rides usually as near as possible my weight-we'll say he was riding nine two-I

know that there was any

saddle

e wasn't above a sto

not going to stand being cl

" said Mr. Leopold; "we don't wa

he saddle. The Gaffer was standing at the three-quarters of the mile, and there Ginger won fairly easily, but they went on t

steadied without his noticing me, and then I landed in the last fifty yard

r from the kitchen-maid than be told a gentleman could kid him

have been a lot of weight between them. Besides, I should think that the

ried at twenty-one pounds, and if Silver Braid can beat Bayle

heir knives, the maid-servants and the jockey listened while Mr. Leopold and Mr. Swindles

with 'orse watchers; it has just come to this, that you can't comb out an 'orse's mane without seeing it in the papers the day after. If I had my way with them gentry--"

smoke a pipe. Mr. Arthu

s what weight he was

of his hand; "and you'd have us believe that you didn't know, would you? You'd have us believe, would y

in strange trouble of soul. She had heard of racecourses as shameful places where men were led to their ruin, and betting she had

ou've got the new number. The last piece was where he

journal out of her pocke