g yellow neck and her
doleful voice always crying out against somebody, her son, her
kitchen-maid, or Joseph himself. She used to turn him out of her kitchen
and larder and dairy, saying that his place was upstairs, and once
raised her hand to him; later she had complained to his father of his
thefts; for he brought his dogs with him and stole the larder key and
cut off pieces of meat for them, and very often dipped jars into the
pans of milk that were standing for cream. His father reproved him, and
from that day he hated Esora, casting names at her, and playing many
pranks upon her until the day he tipped a kettle of boiling water over
his foot while running to scald the wasps in their nest--one of the
apes was stung; it was to avenge the sting he was running, and no one
had known how to relieve his suffering; his father had gone away for the
doctor, but Esora, as soon as she heard what had happened, came with her
balsam, and it subdued the pain almost miraculously.

After his scalding Joseph brought all his troubles to her to be cured,
confiding to her care coughs, colds, and cut fingers; and, as she never
failed to relieve his pain, whatever it was, he began to look upon her
with respect and admiration. All the same something of his original
dislike remained. He disliked her while he admired her, and his
suspicion was that she loved him more for his father's sake than for his
own---- It was his father who sent her from Galilee to look after him.
There was no fault to find with her management, but he could not rid his
mind of the belief that she was a hard task-mistress, and often fell to
pitying the servants under her supervision, yet here she was up at five
while Matred lay drowsing. This testimony of her kind heart was
agreeable to him, for he had need of all her kindness and sympathy that
morning--only with her help could Jesus be cured of his wounds and the
story of his escape from the cross he kept a secret. He was in her
hands, and, confident of her loyalty to him, he told her that he had
left his door open because he wished to speak to her before the others
were out of bed.

She lifted her face till he saw her dim eyes, perhaps for the first
time: but ye haven't been in bed, and there be dust on thy garments, and
blood upon thy hands and sleeves. Yes, Esora, my cloak is full of dust,
and the blood on my sleeve is that of a man who lies wounded in the
gardener's cottage belike to death. But thou canst cure hi