Esther Waters | Page 5

done nothing wrong. Why did cook insult her?
As she pulled on her stockings she stopped and wondered if she should
awake Margaret Gale. Margaret's bed stood in the shadow of the
obliquely falling wall; and she lay heavily, one arm thrown forward,
her short, square face raised to the light. She slept so deeply that for a
moment Esther felt afraid. Suddenly the eyes opened, and Margaret
looked at her vaguely, as if out of eternity. Raising her hands to her
eyes she said--
"What time is it?"
"It has just gone six."
"Then there's plenty of time; we needn't be down before seven. You get
on with your dressing; there's no use in my getting up till you are
done--we'd be tumbling over each other. This is no room to put two
girls to sleep in--one glass not much bigger than your hand. You'll have
to get your box under your bed.... In my last place I had a beautiful
room with a Brussels carpet, and a marble washstand. I wouldn't stay
here three days if it weren't----" The girl laughed and turned lazily over.
Esther did not answer.
"Now, isn't it a grubby little room to put two girls to sleep in? What
was your last place like?"
Esther answered that she had hardly been in service before. Margaret
was too much engrossed in her own thoughts to notice the curtness of

the answer.
"There's only one thing to be said for Woodview, and that is the eating;
we have anything we want, and we'd have more than we want if it
weren't for the old cook: she must have her little bit out of everything
and she cuts us short in our bacon in the morning. But that reminds me!
You have set the cook against you; you'll have to bring her over to your
side if you want to remain here."
"Why should I be asked to wash up the moment I came in the house,
before even I had time to change my dress."
"It was hard on you. She always gets as much as she can out of her
kitchen-maid. But last night she was pressed, there was company to
dinner. I'd have lent you an apron, and the dress you had on wasn't of
much account."
"It isn't because a girl is poor----"
"Oh, I didn't mean that; I know well enough what it is to be hard up."
Margaret clasped her stays across her plump figure and walked to the
door for her dress. She was a pretty girl, with a snub nose and large,
clear eyes. Her hair was lighter in tone than Esther's, and she had
brushed it from her forehead so as to obviate the defect of her face,
which was too short.
Esther was on her knees saying her prayers when Margaret turned to
the light to button her boots.
"Well, I never!" she exclaimed. "Do you think prayers any good?"
Esther looked up angrily.
"I don't want to say anything against saying prayers, but I wouldn't
before the others if I was you--they'll chaff dreadful, and call you
Creeping Jesus."
"Oh, Margaret, I hope they won't do anything so wicked. But I am
afraid I shan't be long here, so it doesn't matter what they think of me."
When they got downstairs they opened the windows and doors, and
Margaret took Esther round, showing her where the things were kept,
and telling her for how many she must lay the table. At that moment a
number of boys and men came clattering up the passage. They cried to
Esther to hurry up, declaring that they were late. Esther did not know
who they were, but she served them as best she might. They
breakfasted hastily and rushed away to the stables; and they had not
been long gone when the squire and his son Arthur appeared in the yard.

The Gaffer, as he was called, was a man of about medium height. He
wore breeches and gaiters, and in them his legs seemed grotesquely
thick. His son was a narrow-chested, undersized young man, absurdly
thin and hatchet-faced. He was also in breeches and gaiters, and to his
boots were attached long-necked spurs. His pale yellow hair gave him a
somewhat ludicrous appearance, as he stood talking to his father, but
the moment he prepared to get into the saddle he seemed quite different.
He rode a beautiful chestnut horse, a little too thin, Esther thought, and
the ugly little boys were mounted on horses equally thin. The squire
rode a stout grey cob, and he watched the chestnut, and was also
interested in the brown horse that walked with its head in the air,
pulling at the smallest of all the boys, a little freckled, red-headed
fellow.
"That's