“That was as good a meal as ever I ate,” he announced, with enthusiasm. “You certainly are a fine cook, Reliance. I washed up the dishes myself. Course you didn’t tell me to, but I knew you was tired and I wanted to help you out.” “Yes? Humph! Well, I am tired. I heard enough from you last night to make me tired the rest of my life. Here is the mail wagon. Now let me see you work. _See_ you--not hear you.” When the mail was distributed she again shut him in the little room and went out to join Miss Makepeace in the shop. At three she came in and superintended the preparation of the outgoing mail sacks. Then once more the door of his cell closed and he was left in solitary confinement. Abbie went home at three-thirty. Reliance sewed briskly on her gown. She was thankful for the work, for it helped to keep her mind as well as her fingers occupied. She had had a distressful night, a hard, trying morning, and her recent interviews with Esther, at the mansion and in her own home, left her anxious and apprehensive. The girl’s manner was most disturbing. Reliance had expected tears, recriminations--against Millard and Foster Townsend--hysterical outbursts, almost anything except the silent, stony, callousness with which her disclosures had been received. Esther, after her first expressions of astonishment at the mention of Carrie Campton’s name, had listened intently, asked questions occasionally, but had neither wept nor exclaimed. She had accompanied her aunt to the cottage and remained there during dinner. She ate almost nothing and Reliance had eaten little more. “But what are you goin’ to do. Esther?” pleaded Reliance as they parted at the gate. “What are you goin’ to say to your Uncle Foster?” Esther looked away, across the road. “I know what I shall say to him,” she answered. “First I want to hear what he has to say to me.” “But, Esther--oh, my dear, you must be careful! You must! Remember, he thinks more of you than anybody else on earth. He has been very, very kind to you, in his way. I know he has been--well, selfish and stubborn and--and all that, but, after all, he was trying to do what he considers the best thing for you. And perhaps I am a little bit to blame, too. I am afraid I put the idea in his head of sendin’ you away. I told you how that happened. Oh, Esther, do be careful! Don’t do anything rash, will you?” Esther did not turn. Her hand, however, groped for that of her aunt and pressed it tightly. “Good-by, Auntie,” she said. “I--I can’t talk any more now, I shall see you again--and soon, I think.” “But promise me you won’t do anything that you will be sorry for always, anything that will make us all miserable.” “I promise that, whatever I do, you shall know about it--and from me. I promise that.”