"And how much do you reckon will see you through it?"

"I don't know, ma'am, I have no experience. I think father will let me
stay at home if I can pay my way. I could manage easily on seven shillings
a week. When my time comes I shall go to the hospital."

While Esther spoke Mrs. Barfield calculated roughly that about ten pounds
would meet most of her wants. Her train fare, two month's board at seven
shillings a week, the room she would have to take near the hospital before
her confinement, and to which she would return with her baby--all these
would run to about four or five pounds. There would be baby's clothes to
buy.... If she gave four pounds Esther would have then twelve pounds, and
with that she would be able to manage. Mrs. Barfield went over to an
old-fashioned escritoire, and, pulling out some small drawers, took from
one some paper packages which she unfolded. "Now, my girl, look here. I'm
going to give you four pounds; then you will have twelve, and that ought
to see you through your trouble. You have been a good servant, Esther; I
like you very much, and am truly sorry to part with you. You will write
and tell me how you are getting on, and if one of these days you want a
place, and I have one to give you, I shall be glad to take you back."

Harshness deadened and hardened her feelings, yet she was easily moved by
kindness, and she longed to throw herself at her mistress's feet; but her
nature did not admit of such effusion, and she said, in her blunt English
way--

"You are far too good, ma'am; I do not deserve such treatment--I know I
don't."