"You don't say so! Well, it is nice to find them religious folks less 'ard-'earted than they gets the name of."
Mrs. Humphries was of the opinion that henceforth Esther should give herself out as Jackie's aunt. "None believes them stories, but they make one seem more respectable like, and I am sure Mr. Parsons will appreciate the intention." Esther did not answer, but she thought of what Mrs. Humphries had said. Perhaps it would be better if Jackie were to leave off calling her Mummie. Auntie! But no, she could not bear it. Fred must take her as she was or not at all. They seemed to understand each other; he was earning good money, thirty shillings a week, and she was now going on for eight-and-twenty; if she was ever going to be married it was time to think about it.
"I don't know how that dear soul will get on without me," she said one
October morning as they jogged out of London by a slow train from St.
Paul's. Fred was taking her into Kent to see his people.
"How do you expect me to get on without you?"
Esther laughed.
"Trust you to manage somehow. There ain't much fear of a man not looking after his little self."
"But the old folk will want to know when. What shall I tell them?"
"This time next year; that'll be soon enough. Perhaps you'll get tired of me before then."
"Say next spring, Esther."
The train stopped.