He was a proud man, but so avaricious that he stopped at
nothing to get money. He was an ardent politician, yet he would sell his
vote to the highest bidder, and when Esther was seventeen he compelled her
to take service regardless of the character of the people or of what the
place was like. They had left Barnstaple many months, and were now living
in a little street off the Vauxhall Bridge Road, near the factory where
Saunders worked; and since they had been in London Esther had been
constantly in service. Why should he keep her? She wasn't one of his
children, he had quite enough of his own. Sometimes of an evening, when
Esther could escape from her drudgery for a few minutes, her mother would
step round, and mother and daughter, wrapped in the same shawl, would walk
to and fro telling each other their troubles, just as in old times. But
these moments were few. In grimy lodging-houses she worked from early
morning till late at night, scrubbing grates, preparing bacon and eggs,
cooking chops, and making beds. She had become one of those London girls
to whom rest, not to say pleasure, is unknown, who if they should sit down
for a few moments hear the mistress's voice, "Now, Eliza, have you nothing
to do, that you are sitting there idle?" Two of her mistresses, one after
the other, had been sold up, and now all the rooms in the neighbourhood
were unlet, no one wanted a "slavey," and Esther was obliged to return
home.
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