good to me."

The babbling of so many voices drew Mr. Leopold from the pantry; he came
with a glass of beer in his hand, and this suggested a toast to Sarah.
"Let's drink baby's health," she said. "Mr. Leopold won't refuse us the
beer."

The idea provoked some good-natured laughter, and Esther hid her face in
her hands and tried to get away. But Margaret would not allow her. "What
nonsense!" she said. "We don't think any the worse of you; why that's an
accident that might happen to any of us."

"I hope not," said Esther.

The jug of beer was finished; she was kissed and hugged again, some tears
were shed, and Esther walked down the yard through the stables.

The avenue was full of wind and rain; the branches creaked dolefully
overhead; the lane was drenched, and the bare fields were fringed with
white mist, and the houses seemed very desolate by the bleak sea; and the
girl's soul was desolate as the landscape. She had come to Woodview to
escape the suffering of a home which had become unendurable, and she was
going back in circumstances a hundred times worse than those in which she
had left it, and she was going back with the memory of the happiness she
had lost. All the grief and trouble that girls of her class have so
frequently to bear gathered in Esther's heart when she looked out of the
railway carriage window and saw for the last time the stiff plantations on
the downs and the angles of the Italian house between the trees. She drew
her handkerchief from her jacket, and hid her distress as well as she
could from the other occupants of the carriage.