Barfield had explained it, and now Margaret was reading. Esther listened, thinking if she might plead illness and escape from the room; but she could not summon sufficient presence of mind, and while she was still agitated and debating with herself, Mrs. Barfield called to her to continue. She hung down her head, suffocated with the shame of the exposure, and when Mrs. Barfield told her again to continue the reading Esther shook her head.

"Can you not read, Esther?" she heard a kind voice saying; and the sound of this voice loosed the feelings long pent up, and the girl, giving way utterly, burst into passionate weeping. She was alone with her suffering, conscious of nothing else, until a kind hand led her from the room, and this hand soothed away the bitterness of the tittering which reached her ears as the door closed. It was hard to persuade her to speak, but even the first words showed that there was more on the girl's heart than could be told in a few minutes. Mrs. Barfield determined to take the matter at once in hand; she dismissed the other servants and returned to the library with Esther, and in that dim room of little green sofas, bookless shelves, and bird-cages, the women—mistress and maid—sealed the bond of a friendship which was to last for life.

Esther told her mistress everything—the work that Mrs. Latch required of her, the persecution she received from the other servants, principally because of her religion. In the course of the narrative allusion was made to the race-horses, and Esther saw on Mrs. Barfield's face a look of grief, and it was clear to what cause Mrs. Barfield attributed the demoralisation of her household.

"I will teach you how to read, Esther. Every Sunday after our Bible instruction you shall remain when the others have left for half-an-hour. It is not difficult; you will soon learn."

Henceforth, every Sunday afternoon, Mrs. Barfield devoted half-an-hour to the instruction of her kitchen-maid. These half-hours were bright spots of happiness in the serving-girl's weeks of work—happiness that had been and would be again. But although possessing a clear intelligence, Esther did not make much progress, nor did her diligence seem to help her. Mrs. Barfield was puzzled by her pupil's slowness; she ascribed it to her own inaptitude to teach and the little time for lessons. Esther's powerlessness to put syllables together, to grasp the meaning of words, was very marked. Strange it was, no doubt, but all that concerned the printed page seemed to embarrass and elude her.

IV

Esther's position in Woodview was now assured, and her fellow-servants recognised the fact, though they liked her none the better for it. Mrs. Latch still did what she could to prevent her from learning her trade, but she no longer attempted to overburden her with work. Of Mr. Leopold she saw almost as little as she did of the people upstairs. He passed along the passages or remained shut up in his pantry. Ginger used to go there to smoke; and when the door stood ajar Esther saw his narrow person seated on the edge of the table, his leg swinging. Among the pantry people Mr. Leopold's erudition was a constant subject of admiration. His reminiscences of the races of thirty years ago were full of interest; he had seen the great horses whose names live in the stud-book, the horses the Gaffer had owned, had trained, had ridden, and he was full of anecdote concerning them and the Gaffer. Praise of his father's horsemanship always caused a cloud to gather on Ginger's face, and when he left the pantry Swindles chuckled. "Whenever I wants to get a rise out of Ginger I says, 'Ah, we shall never see another gentleman jock who can use the whip at a finish like the Governor in his best days.'"

Everyone delighted in the pantry, and to make Mr. Leopold comfortable Mr. Swindles used to bring in the wolf-skin rug that went out with the carriage, and wrap it round Mr.