The "King's Head" was an humble place in the old-fashioned style. The house must have been built two hundred years, and the bar seemed as if it had been dug out of the house. The floor was some inches lower than the street, and the ceiling was hardly more than a couple of feet above the head of a tall man. Nor was it divided by numerous varnished partitions, according to the latest fashion. There were but three. The private entrance was in Dean Street, where a few swells came over from the theatre and called for brandies-and-sodas. There was a little mahogany what-not on the counter, and Esther served her customers between the little shelves. The public entrance and the jug and bottle entrance were in a side street. There was no parlour for special customers at the back, and the public bar was inconveniently crowded by a dozen people. The "King's Head" was not an up-to-date public-house. It had, however, one thing in its favour--it was a free house, and William said they had only to go on supplying good stuff, and trade would be sure to come back to them. For their former partner had done them much harm by systematic adulteration, and a little way down the street a new establishment, with painted tiles and brass lamps, had been opened, and was attracting all the custom of the neighbourhood. She was more anxious than William to know what loss the books showed; she was jealous of the profits of his turf account, and when he laughed at her she said, "But you're never here in the daytime, you do not have these empty bars staring you in the face morning and afternoon." And then she would tell him: a dozen pots of beer about dinner-time, a few glasses of bitter--there had been a rehearsal over the way--and that was about all. The bars were empty, and the public-house dozed through the heavy heat of a summer afternoon. Esther sat behind the bar sewing, waiting for Jackie to come home from school. William was away at Newmarket. The clock struck five and Jackie peeped through the doors, dived under the counter, and ran into his mother's arms. "Well, did you get full marks to-day?" "Yes, mummie, I got full marks." "That's a good boy--and you want your tea?" "Yes, mummie; I'm that hungry I could hardly walk home." "Hardly walk home! What, as bad as that?" "Yes, mummie. There's a new shop open in Oxford Street. The window is all full of boats. Do you think that if all the favourites were to be beaten for a month, father would buy me one?" "I thought you was so hungry you couldn't walk home, dear?" "Well, mummie, so I was, but----" Esther laughed. "Well, come this way and have your tea." She went into the parlour and rang the bell. "Mummie, may I have buttered toast?" "Yes, dear, you may." "And may I go downstairs and help Jane to make it?" "Yes, you can do that too; it will save her the trouble of coming up. Let me take off your coat--give me your hat; now run along, and help Jane to make the toast."