"It is unchristian," pursues Mrs. Brandon--unconvinced by Esther's anecdote, which indeed she treats as apocryphal--"to call anyone common or unclean, and God forbid that I should ever do so! But imagine a lady, born and bred like yourself, exposed to the coarse witticisms of the footman and the intimate friendship of the cook!" Esther's little face seems to catch some of the deep fire-glow--her breast heaves up and down in angry, quick pants. "Mrs. Brandon, do you suppose that they would be so _impertinent_----?" she begins, fiercely; then breaks off, ashamed. "I forgot; it would be no impertinence then! Well!" (with a long low sigh) "I am tough: I have borne worse things! This is but a little thing, after all; I can bear this!" "I think, Esther, that if, as I fear, you are leaning on your own strength, and not on an _Unseen Arm_, you are overrating your powers of endurance." "Perhaps; I can but try." "Impossible!" answers Mrs. Brandon, with cool, common sense. "Who would hire you? Ridiculous!--childish! No, Esther; we must try and find something more eligible for you, if you are still foolishly bent on declining the _happy_, and respectable, and (I humbly hope I may say) _pious_ home that I am so willing--that we are all so willing--to offer you." "Oh yes! yes! yes!" cries the child, passionately. "I _am_ bent on it! It is less degrading even to be exposed, as you say, to the witticisms of the footman and the friendship of the cook, than to live upon people on whom you have no claim beyond that of having been already most ungrateful to them--than to impose on their generosity, to sponge upon them!" "As you will, Esther," answers Mrs. Brandon, loving her too little, and respecting her independence of spirit too much, to reason further with her. There is a pause--a pause broken presently by Esther, who speaks diffidently: "Mrs. Brandon, don't you think that if I could get into one of those large shops in London, or one of our great towns, I could try on cloaks, and measure yards of ribbon, without requiring any great amount of knowledge of any kind, theoretical or practical?" Mrs. Brandon looks doubtful. "It is not so easy as you may imagine, my dear, to obtain admission into one of those shops: a friend of mine made great efforts to get a situation for a _protégée_ of hers at Marshal & Snelgrove's, or Lewis & Allenby's, and after waiting a long time, was obliged to give it up as hopeless." "Perhaps she was not tall?" suggests Esther, rather timidly. "I really never inquired." "They like them tall!" says the girl, involuntarily drawing up her slight _élancé_ figure; "and I'm tall, am I not?" "I should imagine that that qualification alone would hardly suffice," answers the old lady, drily; "and indeed," she continues, pursing up her mouth rather primly, "even if it would, I should hardly think a situation in a shop, or other place of public resort, desirable for a girl so young, and of so--so--so _peculiar_ an appearance as you."