Esther held the four sovereigns and the two half-crowns in her hand for a moment, then she said—
"Here, Jenny, are the two pounds you want to take you to Australia. I 'ope they'll bring you good luck, and that you'll think of me sometimes."
"Indeed I will, Esther. You've been a good sister to me, indeed you 'ave; I shall never forget you, and will write to you…. It is very 'ard parting."
"Come, come, never mind those tears. You have got your money; say good-bye to your sister and run along."
"Don't be so 'eartless," cried Jenny, whose susceptibilities were now on the move. "'Ave yer no feeling; don't yer know what it is to bid good-bye to yer sister, and perhaps for ever?" Jenny flung herself into Esther's arms crying bitterly. "Oh, Esther, I do love you; yer 'ave been that kind to me I shall never forget it. I shall be very lonely without you. Write to me sometimes; it will be a comfort to hear how you are getting on. If I marry I'll send for you, and you'll bring the baby."
"Do you think I'd leave him behind? Kiss 'im before you go."
"Good-bye, Esther; take care of yourself."
Esther was now alone in the world, and she remembered the night she walked home from the hospital and how cruel the city had seemed. She was now alone in that great wilderness with her child, for whom she would have to work for many, many years. How would it all end? Would she be able to live through it? Had she done right in letting Jenny have the money—her boy's money? She should not have given it; but she hardly knew what she was doing, she was so weak, and the news of her mother's death had overcome her. She should not have given Jenny her boy's money…. But perhaps it might turn out all right after all. If the matron got her a situation as wet-nurse she'd be able to pull through. "So they would separate us," she whispered, bending over the sleeping child. "There is no help for it, my poor darling. There's no help for it, no help for it."
Next day Esther was taken out of bed. She spent part of the afternoon sitting in an easy-chair, and Mrs. Jones came to see her. The little old woman seemed like one whom she had known always, and Esther told her about her mother's death and the departure of her family for Australia. Perhaps a week lay between her and the beginning of the struggle which she dreaded. She had been told that they did not usually keep anyone in the hospital more than a fortnight. Three days after Mrs. Jones' visit the matron came into their room hurriedly.
"I'm very sorry," she said, "but a number of new patients are expected; there's nothing for it but to get rid of you. It is a pity, for I can see you are both very weak."