rm. She looked older than her age, because of the strong
lines in her face, the determined set of her lips, and the general air
of knowledge and self-sufficiency which pervaded her whole being.
Throughout her life she had sacrificed everything to duty, whether it
was the yearning of her own heart or the feelings of those who loved
her. In the world about her she saw so much of froth and frivolity that
she tried to balance matters by being especially staid and stern
herself. She did not consider that in the seesaw of life it takes more
than one person to toss up the weight of the world's wickedness. Her
existence was governed by rigid rules, from which she never departed.

It is hard to explain just what Miss Hester's position was among the
denizens of the poorer quarter. She was liked and disliked, admired and
feared. She would descend upon her victims with unasked counsel and
undesired tracts. Her voice was a trumpet of scathing invective against
their shiftlessness, their untidiness, and their immorality, but her
hand was as a horn of plenty in straitened times, and her presence in
sickness was a comfort. She made no pretence to being good-hearted; in
fact, she resented the term as applied to herself. It was all duty with
her.

Up through the now dismantled garden to the prim cottage she led the boy
Fred. The child had not spoken a word since he had left the house of his
friend. His little heart seemed to be suddenly chilled within him. Miss
Hester had been equally silent. Her manner was constrained and
embarrassed. She had, indeed, tried to find some words of soothing and
encouragement to say to the child, such as she had heard Melissa Davis
use; but she could not. They were not a part of her life's vocabulary.
Several times she had essayed to speak, but the sentences that formed in
her mind seemed so absurd and awkward that she felt them better unsaid.

It is true that every natural woman has the maternal instinct, but
unless she has felt the soft face of a babe at her breast and looked
down into its eyes as it drew its life from her life, she can know
nothing of that freemasonry of womanhood which, by some secret means too
deep and subtle for the knowledge of outsiders, wins the love of
childhood. It is not so with men, because the childish mind does not
demand so much of them, even though they be fathers. To be convinced,
look about you and see how many more bachelors than maids are favourites
with children.