"Well, mummie, so I was, but——"
Esther laughed. "Well, come this way and have your tea." She went into the parlour and rang the bell.
"Mummie, may I have buttered toast?"
"Yes, dear, you may."
"And may I go downstairs and help Jane to make it?"
"Yes, you can do that too; it will save her the trouble of coming up. Let me take off your coat—give me your hat; now run along, and help Jane to make the toast."
Esther opened a glass door, curtained with red silk; it led from the bar to the parlour, a tiny room, hardly larger than the private bar, holding with difficulty a small round table, three chairs, an arm-chair, a cupboard. In the morning a dusty window let in a melancholy twilight, but early in the afternoon it became necessary to light the gas. Esther took a cloth from the cupboard, and laid the table for Jackie's tea. He came up the kitchen stairs telling Jane how many marbles he had won, and at that moment voices were heard in the bar.
It was William, tall and gaunt, buttoned up in a grey frock-coat, a pair of field glasses slung over his shoulders. He was with his clerk, Ted Blamy, a feeble, wizen little man, dressed in a shabby tweed suit, covered with white dust.
"Put that bag down, Teddy, and come and have a drink."
Esther saw at once that things had not gone well with him.