The cab that took Esther to her lodging cost half-a-crown, and this waste of money frightened her thrifty nature, inherited through centuries of working folk. The waste, however, had ceased at last, and it was none too soon, she thought, as she sat in the room she had taken near the hospital, in a little eight-roomed house, kept by an old woman whose son was a bricklayer. It was at the end of the week, one afternoon, as Esther was sitting alone in her room, that there came within her a great and sudden shock--life seemed to be slipping from her, and she sat for some minutes quite unable to move. She knew that her time had come, and when the pain ceased she went downstairs to consult Mrs. Jones. "Hadn't I better go to the hospital now, Mrs. Jones?" "Not just yet, my dear; them is but the first labour pains; plenty of time to think of the hospital; we shall see how you are in a couple of hours." "Will it last so long as that?" "You'll be lucky if you get it over before midnight. I have been down for longer than that." "Do you mind my stopping in the kitchen with you? I feel frightened when I'm alone." "No, I'll be glad of your company. I'll get you some tea presently." "I could not touch anything. Oh, this is dreadful!" she exclaimed, and she walked to and fro holding her sides, balancing herself dolefully. Often Mrs. Jones stopped in her work about the range and said, looking at her, "I know what it is, I have been through it many a time--we all must--it is our earthly lot." About seven o'clock Esther was clinging to the table, and with pain so vivid on her face that Mrs. Jones laid aside the sausages she was cooking and approached the suffering girl. "What! is it so bad as all that?" "Oh," she said, "I think I'm dying, I cannot stand up; give me a chair, give me a chair!" and she sank down upon it, leaning across the table, her face and neck bathed in a cold sweat. "John will have to get his supper himself; I'll leave these sausages on the hob, and run upstairs and put on my bonnet. The things you intend to bring with you, the baby clothes, are made up in a bundle, aren't they?" "Yes, yes." Little Mrs. Jones came running down; she threw a shawl over Esther, and it was astonishing what support she lent to the suffering girl, calling on her the whole time to lean on her and not to be afraid. "Now then, dear, you must keep your heart up, we have only a few yards further to go." "You are too good, you are too kind," Esther said, and she leaned against the wall, and Mrs. Jones rang the bell. "Keep up your spirits; to-morrow it will be all over. I will come round and see how you are." The door opened. The porter rang the bell, and a sister came running down. "Come, come, take my arm," she said, "and breathe hard as you are ascending the stairs. Come along, you mustn't loiter." On the second landing a door was thrown open, and she found herself in a room full of people, eight or nine young men and women.