So surprised was Mrs. Gray that for the instant an almost unprecedented thing occurred: she could think of nothing to say. But endeavoring to gain her normal poise, she turned upon Rosa.
"Well, you heard what the lady said! Father, the dear old soul, of course he wants to see me before he dies, after all I've done fer him; but how lonely it'll be without him! Seems like I can see him a-settin' over there in his chair now, a-lookin' out of the winder, like he did 'most all day sometimes."
At this appropriate juncture, she made a fruitless effort to shed a few tears, but, to be charitable, the deepest sorrow cannot find expression in tears.
"You can stay here, Rosa, and have supper ready when I git back, and make me some tea; I'll need it to settle my nerves. Take them fine clothes off, too, before you spoil 'em. I want you to learn to be savin', like I've always been. And give that grease spot another scrubbin', and go to the corner grocery and git—"
"No, Mrs. Gray," vehemently interposed Esther, "did I not tell you that Rosa is never going to live with you again? You are about to realize your dream of liberty, for which without a doubt you are duly grateful. You seem to feel that both grandpa and Rosa have been intolerable burdens."
Esther was the repetition of her father, and when the case demanded could be firm and commandingly dignified.
Again Mrs. Gray was speechless. For so long she had been absolute monarch in her small realm, with none daring to question or to rise in rebellion, that it was a revelation to find in a young woman like Esther an opposite and stronger force with which to reckon.
For the first time in her life she was completely conquered, and without another word marched solemnly down to the carriage.
"This is an opportunity," thought Esther, "and may I be directed in all I say."
Not wishing this woman possessed of a hard heart and a shriveled soul to stand in awe of her any longer, a few kind and ordinary remarks soon accomplished the desired end.