was some laughter at this harangue, but no contradiction of its
statements. Perhaps Esther was more highly gifted than any of her
fellows; beyond question she worked harder. She had motives that
wrought upon none of them; the idea of equalling or at least of
satisfying Pitt, and the feeling that her father was sacrificing a
great deal for her sake, and that she must do her very utmost by way of
honouring and rewarding his kindness. Besides still another and loftier
feeling, that she was the Lord's servant, and that less than the very
best she could do was not service good enough for him.

'Papa,' she said one evening in October, 'don't you think Pitt must
have come and gone before now?'

'William Dallas? If he has come, he is gone, certainly.'

'Papa, do you think he _can_ have come?'

'Why not?'

'Because he has not been to see us.'

'My dear, that is nothing; there is no special reason why he should
come to see us.'

'Oh, papa!' cried Esther, dismayed.

'My dear, you have put too much water in my tea; I wish you would think
what you are about.'

Now Esther _had_ thought what she was about, and the tea was as nearly
as possible just as usual.

'Shall I mend it, papa?'

'You cannot mend it. Tea must be made right at first, if it is ever to
be right. And if it is _not_ right, it is not fit to be drunk.'

'I am very sorry, papa. I will try and have it perfect next time.'

It was plain her father did not share her anxiety about Pitt; he cared
nothing about the matter, whether he came or no. He did not think of
it. And Esther had been thinking of it every day for months, and many
times a day. She was hurt, and it made her feel alone. Esther had that
feeling rather often, for a girl of her age and sound health in every
respect, bodily and mental. The feeling was quite in accordance with
the facts of the case; only many girls at seventeen would not have
found it out. She was in school and in the midst of numbers for five
and a half days in the week; yet even there, as has been explained, she
was in a degree solitary; and both in school and at home Esther knew
the fact. At home the loneliness was intensified. Colonel Gainsborough
was always busy with his books; even at meal times he hardly came out
of them; and never, either at Seaforth or here, had he made himself the
companion of his daughter. He desired to know how she stood in her
school, and kept himself informed of what she was doing; what she might
be