to
dictate, that he did publish the fragment, and Addington bought it
breathlessly and looked its amused horror over the values of the foreign
visitor.

"Of course, my dear," said the older ladies--they called each other "my
dear" a great deal, not as a term of affection, but in moments of
conviction and the desire to impress it--"of course her standards are
not ours. Nobody would expect that. But this is certainly going too far.
Esther must be very much mortified."

Esther was not only that: she was tearful with anger and even penetrated
to her grandmother's room to rehearse the circumstance, and beg Madam
Bell to send Aunt Patricia away. Madam Bell was lying with her face
turned to the wall, but the bedclothes briefly shook, as if she
chuckled.

"You must tell her to go," said Esther again. "It's your house, and it's
a scandal to have such a woman living in it. I don't care for myself,
but I do care for the dignity of the family." Esther, Madam Bell knew,
never cared for herself. She did things from the highest motives and the
most remote. "Will you," Esther insisted, "will you tell her to leave?"

"No," said grandmother, from under the bedclothes. "Go away and call
Rhoda Knox."

Esther went, angry but not disconcerted. The result of her invasion was
perhaps no more bitter than she had expected. She had sometimes talked
to grandmother for ten minutes, meltingly, adjuringly, only to be asked,
at a pause, to call Rhoda Knox. To-day Rhoda, with a letter in her hand,
was just outside the door.

"Would you mind, Mrs. Blake," she said, "asking Sophy to mail this?"

Esther did mind, but she hardly ventured to say so. With bitterness in
her heart, she took the letter and went downstairs. Everybody, this
swelling heart told her, was against her. She still did not dare
withstand Rhoda, for the woman took care of grandmother perfectly, and
if she left it would be turmoil thrice confounded. She hated Rhoda the
more, having once heard Madame Beattie's reception of a request to carry
a message when she was going downstairs.

"Certainly not," said Madame Beattie. "That's what you are here for, my
good woman. Run along and take down my cloak and put it in the
carriage."

Rhoda went quite meekly, and Esther having seen, exulted and thought she
also should dare revolt. But she never did.

And now, having gone to grandmother in her mortification and trouble,
she knew she ought to go to Madame Beattie with her anger. But she