subordinates. Though Christopher Bounder really had no nerves, yet he
felt the influence I speak of.

'Ain't our Miss Esther growed to be a stunner, though!' he remarked
more than once.

'I'm sure I don't rightly know what you mean, Christopher,' his sister
answered.

'Well, I tell you she's an uncommon handsome young lady, Sarah. An' she
has the real way with her; the real thing, she has.'

'What do you mean by that?'

'I'll wager a cucumber you can tell,' said Christopher, shutting up his
eyes slyly. 'There ain't no flesh and blood round in these parts like
that;--no mor'n a cabbage ain't like a camellia. An' _that_ don't tell
it. She's that dainty and sweet as a camellia never was--not as ever I
see; and she has that fine, soft way with her, that is like the touch
of a feather, and yet ain't soft neither if you come to go agin it. I
tell you what, Sarah, that shows blood, that does,' concluded
Christopher with a competent air. 'Our young lady, she's the real
thing. You and me, now, we couldn't be like that if we was to die for
it. That's blood, that is.'

'I don't know,' said the housekeeper. 'She _is_ sweet, uncommon; and
she is gentle enough, and she has a will of her own, too; but I don't
know--she didn't use for to be just so.'

''Cause she's growin' up to years,' said the gardener. 'La, Sally,
folks is like vegetables, uncommon; you must let 'em drop their rough
leaves, before you can see what they're goin' to be.'

'There warn't never no rough leaves nor rough anything about Miss
Esther. I can't say as I knows what you mean, Christopher.'

'A woman needn't to know everything,' responded her brother with
superiority; 'and the natural world, to be sure, ain't your department,
Sarah. You're good for a great deal where you be.'

CHAPTER XVIII.

_A NEIGHBOUR_.

The packing and sending off of boxes was ended at last; and the bare,
empty, echoing, forlorn house seemed of itself to eject its
inhabitants. When it came to that, everybody was ready to go. Mrs.
Barker lamented that she could not go on before the rest of the family,
to prepare the place a bit for them; but that was impossible; they must
all go together.

It was the middle of November when at last the family made their
flitting. They had no dear friends to leave, and nothing particular to
regret, except that one low mound in the churchyard; yet Esther felt
sober as they drove away. The only tangible reason for this on which
her tho