The socket plate hung loose on the wire, and only a faint tinkle
came through the solitude of the empty house.
At last footsteps and a light; the chained door was opened a little, and a
voice asked who it was. Esther explained; the door was opened, and she
stood face to face with her old mistress. Mrs. Barfield stood, holding the
candle high, so that she could see Esther. Esther knew her at once. She
had not changed very much. She kept her beautiful white teeth and her
girlish smile; the pointed, vixen-like face had not altered in outline,
but the reddish hair was so thin that it had to be parted on the side and
drawn over the skull; her figure was delicate and sprightly as ever.
Esther noticed all this, and Mrs. Barfield noticed that Esther had grown
stouter. Her face was still pleasant to see, for it kept that look of
blunt, honest nature which had always been its charm. She was now the
thick-set working woman of forty, and she stood holding the hem of her
jacket in her rough hands.
"We'd better put the chain up, for I'm alone in the house."
"Aren't you afraid, ma'am?"
"A little, but there's nothing to steal. I asked the policeman to keep a
look-out. Come into the library."
There was the round table, the little green sofa, the piano, the parrot's
cage, and the yellow-painted presses; and it seemed only a little while
since she had been summoned to this room, since she had stood facing her
mistress, her confession on her lips.
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