"Why, Esther, you seem in rather a croaking mood!" remonstrated Lulu.
"Well, my dear, going about daily in trains and omnibuses, and having to run the gauntlet of every man who thinks that because a girl works for her living she can't possibly be a lady, doesn't tend to sweeten one's view of life."
"I suppose there are annoyances in every lot," diffidently put in May. "But there are—there really are—worse things than being obliged to earn one's living. You must be so happy here, able to do just as you like, with nobody to worry you."
Esther's brow cleared. "Yes, it's something to be independent, nowadays. And it's too bad to bore you with my grumbles, Mrs. Burnside. I don't often indulge in complaints, do I, Lulu? We three really have a jolly time here; and my salary is to be raised twenty pounds a year, beginning from next month."
"Oh, Esther, how splendid!"
"Yes, we must go on the river, or have some dissipation to celebrate it. Oh! who can that be?" as a loud knock resounded at the outer door.
"My aunt thought I might get lost, and a friend of ours—Mr. Lang—offered to call for me," said May, flushing. "He is earlier than I expected—I hope you don't mind his coming?"
"Oh, dear, no!" nonchalantly responded Esther, as Lulu bustled out to admit Mr. Lang, who entered with his usual bumptious self-confidence. But when his eyes fell upon the superb figure of Esther, he was palpably surprised.
May introduced him; but, while Lulu gave him a friendly greeting, Esther barely condescended to acknowledge his existence. Miss Inglis, late of Mallowfield Hall, was not to be put down by a vulgar plutocrat.
"I must apologise for coming rather early, Mrs. Burnside," he began, "but I didn't quite know how long it would take to get here; I never was in this neighbourhood before. Don't you find it rather out of the way?" he continued, addressing Esther.