Esther Waters Part 15

At that moment Mrs. Saunders picked the steak from the gridiron, and putting it on a nice hot plate she carried it in her ap.r.o.n to Jim, saying, "Mind yer 'ands, it is burning 'ot."

Jim fed in hungry silence, the children watching, regretting that none of them ever had suppers like that. He didn't speak until he had put away the better part of the steak; then, after taking a long pull at the jug of beer, he said--

"I 'aven't enjoyed a bit of food like that this many a day; I was that beat when I came in, and it does do one good to put a piece of honest meat into one's stomach after a 'ard day's work!"

Then, prompted by a sudden thought, he complimented Esther on her looks, and then, with increasing interest, inquired what kind of people she was staying with. But Esther was in no humour for conversation, and answered his questions briefly without entering into details. Her reserve only increased his curiosity, which fired up at the first mention of the race-horses.

"I scarcely know much about them. I only used to see them pa.s.sing through the yard as they went to exercise on the downs. There was always a lot of talk about them in the servants' hall, but I didn't notice it. They were a great trouble to Mrs. Barfield--I told you, mother, that she was one of ourselves, didn't I?"

A look of contempt pa.s.sed over Jim's face, and he said--

"We've quite enough talk 'ere about the Brethren; give them a rest. What about the 'orses? Did they win any races? Yer can't 'ave missed 'earing that."

"Yes, Silver Braid won the Stewards' Cup."

"Silver Braid was one of your horses?"

"Yes, Mr. Barfield won thousands and thousands, everyone in Sh.o.r.eham won something, and a ball for the servants was given in the Gardens."

"And you never thought of writing to me about it! I could have 'ad thirty to one off Bill Short. One pound ten to a bob! And yer never thought it worth while to send me the tip. I'm blowed! Girls aren't worth a d.a.m.n....

Thirty to one off Bill Short--he'd have laid it. I remember seeing the price quoted in all the papers. Thirty to one taken and hoffered. If you had told me all yer knowed I might 'ave gone 'alf a quid--fifteen pun to 'alf a quid! as much as I'd earn in three months slaving eight and ten hours a day, paint-pot on 'and about them blooming engines. Well, there's no use crying over what's done--sich a chance won't come again, but something else may. What are they going to do with the 'orse this autumn--did yer 'ear that?"

"I think I 'eard that he was entered for the Cambridges.h.i.+re, but if I remember rightly, Mr. Leopold--that's the butler, not his real name, but what we call him--"

"Ah, yes; I know; after the Baron. Now what do 'e say? I reckon 'e knows.

I should like to 'ave 'alf-an-hour's talk with your Mr. Leopold. What do 'e say? For what 'e says, unless I'm pretty well mistaken, is worth listening to. A man wouldn't be a-wasting 'is time in listening to 'im.

What do 'e say?"

"Mr. Leopold never says much. He's the only one the Gaffer ever confides in. 'Tis said they are as thick as thieves, so they say. Mr. Leopold was his confidential servant when the Gaffer--that's the squire--was a bachelor."

Jim chuckled. "Yes, I think I know what kind of man your Mr. Leopold is like. But what did 'e say about the Cambridges.h.i.+re?"

"He only laughed a little once, and said he didn't think the 'orse would do much good in the autumn races--no, not races, that isn't the word."

"Handicaps?"

"Yes, that's it. But there's no relying on what Mr. Leopold says--he never says what he really means. But I 'eard William, that's the footman--"

"What are you stopping for? What did yer 'ear 'im say?"

"That he intends to have something on next spring."

"Did he say any race? Did he say the City and Sub.?"

"Yes, that was the race he mentioned."

"I thought that would be about the length and the breadth of it," Jim said, as he took up his knife and fork. There was only a small portion of the beef-steak left, and this he ate gluttonously, and, finis.h.i.+ng the last remaining beer, he leaned back in the happiness of repletion. He crammed tobacco into a dirty clay, with a dirtier finger-nail, and said--

"I'd be uncommon glad to 'ear how he is getting on. When are you going back? Up for the day only?"

Esther did not answer, and Jim looked inquiringly as he reached across the table for the matches. The decisive moment had arrived, and Mrs. Saunders said--

"Esther ain't a-going back; leastways--"

"Not going back! You don't mean that she ain't contented in her situation--that she 'as--"

"Esther ain't going back no more," Mrs. Saunders answered, incautiously.

"Look ee 'ere, Jim--"

"Out with it, old woman--no 'umbug! What is it all about? Ain't going back to 'er sitooation, and where she 'as been treated like that--just look at the duds she 'as got on."

The evening was darkening rapidly, and the firelight flickered over the back of the toy dogs piled up on the dresser. Jim had lit his pipe, and the acrid and warm odour of quickly-burning tobacco overpowered the smell of grease and the burnt skin of the baked potato, a fragment of which remained on the plate; only the sickly flavour of drying paste was distinguishable in the reek of the short black clay which the man held firmly between his teeth. Esther sat by the fire, her hands crossed over her knees, no signs of emotion on her sullen, plump face. Mrs. Saunders stood on the other side of Esther, between her and the younger children, now quarrelling among themselves, and her face was full of fear as she watched her husband anxiously.

"Now, then, old woman, blurt it out!" he said. "What is it? Can it be the girl 'as lost her sitooation--got the sack? Yes, I see that's about the cut of it. Her beastly temper! So they couldn't put up with it in the country any more than I could mesel'. Well, it's 'er own look-out! If she can afford to chuck up a place like that, so much the better for 'er.

Pity, though; she might 'ave put me up to many a good thing."

"It ain't that, Jim. The girl is in trouble."

"Wot do yer say? Esther in trouble? Well, that's the best bit I've heard this long while. I always told ye that the religious ones were just the same as the others--a bit more hypocritical, that's all. So she that wouldn't 'ave nothing to do with such as was Mrs. Dunbar 'as got 'erself into trouble! Well I never! But 'tis just what I always suspected. The goody-goody sort are the worst. So she 'as got 'erself into trouble! Well, she'll 'ave to get 'erself out of it."

"Now, Jim, dear, yer mustn't be 'ard on 'er; she could tell a very different story if she wished it, but yer know what she is. There she sits like a block of marble, and won't as much as say a word in 'er own defence."

"But I don't want 'er to speak. I don't care, it's nothing to me; I only laughed because--"

"Jim, dear, it is something to all of us. What we thought was that you might let her stop 'ere till her time was come to go to the 'orspital."

"Ah, that's it, is it? That was the meaning of the 'alf-pound of steak and the pint of porter, was it. I thought there was something hup. So she wants to stop 'ere, do she? As if there wasn't enough already! Well, I be blowed if she do! A nice thing, too; a girl can't go away to service without coming back to her respectable 'ome in trouble--in trouble, she calls it. Now, I won't 'ave it; there's enough 'ere as it is, and another coming, worse luck. We wants no b.a.s.t.a.r.ds 'ere.... And a nice example, too, for the other children! No, I won't 'ave it!"

Jenny and Julia looked curiously at Esther, who sat quite still, her face showing no sign of emotion. Mrs. Saunders turned towards her, a pitying look on her face, saying clearly, "You see, my poor girl, how matters stand; I can do nothing."

The girl, although she did not raise her eyes, understood what was pa.s.sing in her mother's mind, for there was a grave deliberativeness in the manner in which she rose from the chair.

But just as the daughter had guessed what was pa.s.sing in the mother's mind, so did the mother guess what was pa.s.sing in the daughter's. Mrs.

Saunders threw herself before Esther, saying, "Oh, no, Esther, wait a moment; 'e won't be 'ard on 'ee." Then turning to her husband, "Yer don't understand, Jim. It is only for a little time."

"No, I tell yer. No, I won't 'ave it! There be too many 'ere as it is."

"Only a little while, Jim."

"No. And those who ain't wanted 'ad better go at once--that's my advice to them. The place is as full of us that we can 'ardly turn round as it is.

No, I won't 'ear of it!"

"But, Jim, Esther is quite willing to pay her way; she's saved a good little sum of money, and could afford to pay us ten s.h.i.+llings a week for board and the parlour."

A perplexed look came on Jim's face.

"Why didn't yer tell me that afore? Of course I don't wish to be 'ard on the girl, as yer 'ave just heard me say. Ten s.h.i.+llings a week for her board and the parlour--that seems fair enough; and if it's any convenience to 'er to remain, I'm sure we'll be glad to 'ave 'er. I'll say right glad, too. We was always good friends, Esther, wasn't we, though ye wasn't one of my own?" So saying, Jim held out his hand.