'Do you mean Miss Esther?'
'Ah! that's it. I never heerd of a Saint Esther. There was an Esther in the Bible—I'll tell you! she was a Queen Esther; and that fits. Ain't she a kind o' a queen! But she's t'other thing too. Look here, Mr. Bounder; be you all saints up to your house?'
'Well, no, mum, not exactly; that's not altogether the description I'd give of some of us, if I was stating my opinion.'
'Don't you think you had ought to be that?'
'Perhaps we ought,' said Christopher, with wondering slow admission.
'I kin tell you. There ain't no question about it. Folks had ought to live up to their privileges; an' you've got a pattern there right afore your eyes. I hev no opinion of you, ef you ain't all better'n common folks. I'd be, I know, ef I lived a bit where she was.'
'It's different with a young lady,' Christopher began.
'Why is it different?' said the woman sharply. 'You and me, we've got as good right to be saints as she has, or anybody. I tell you I've made a vow. I ain't no saint, but I'm agoin' to sell her no onions.'
'Mum!' said Christopher, astounded.
'Nor nothin' else,' Mrs. Blumenfeld went on. 'How many d'ye want?'