Esther looked away, across the road.
“I know what I shall say to him,” she answered. “First I want to hear what he has to say to me.”
“But, Esther—oh, my dear, you must be careful! You must! Remember, he thinks more of you than anybody else on earth. He has been very, very kind to you, in his way. I know he has been—well, selfish and stubborn and—and all that, but, after all, he was trying to do what he considers the best thing for you. And perhaps I am a little bit to blame, too. I am afraid I put the idea in his head of sendin’ you away. I told you how that happened. Oh, Esther, do be careful! Don’t do anything rash, will you?”
Esther did not turn. Her hand, however, groped for that of her aunt and pressed it tightly.
“Good-by, Auntie,” she said. “I—I can’t talk any more now, I shall see you again—and soon, I think.”
“But promise me you won’t do anything that you will be sorry for always, anything that will make us all miserable.”
“I promise that, whatever I do, you shall know about it—and from me. I promise that.”
She hurried away. And now, as Reliance sat there, trying to sew, her thoughts were not upon the stitches she was taking in the made-over gown; in spite of her resolution they strayed to the Townsend mansion, to the girl who had just gone there and the man she had gone to meet.
A cautious tap sounded on the shop door. Then the door opened and the head of Varunas Gifford appeared between it and the jamb.
“Hello!” hailed Mr. Gifford. “That you, Reliance? Can you come out here a minute? I’ve got somethin’ for you.”