The poor Wool-gatherer could stand it no
longer; he had rushed to her side, swearing that if she would promise not
to hang herself he would never look at another girl again. The other boys,
who had been crouching in the drove-way, rose up. How they did chaff the
Wool-gatherer! He had burst into tears and Esther had felt sorry for him,
and almost inclined to marry him out of pity for his forlorn condition.
Her life grew happier and happier. She forgot that Mrs. Latch would not
teach her how to make jellies, and had grown somewhat used to Sarah's
allusions to her ignorance. She was still very poor, had not sufficient
clothes, and her life was full of little troubles; but there were
compensations. It was to her that Mrs. Barfield always came when she
wanted anything in a hurry, and Miss Mary, too, seemed to prefer to apply
to Esther when she wanted milk for her cats or bran and oats for her
rabbits.
The Gaffer and his race-horses, the Saint and her greenhouse--so went the
stream of life at Woodview. What few visitors came were entertained by
Miss Mary in the drawing-room or on the tennis lawn. Mrs. Barfield saw no
one. She desired to remain in her old gown--an old thing that her daughter
had discarded long ago--pinned up around her, and on her head an old
bonnet with a faded poppy hanging from the crown.
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