ESTHER:
A BOOK FOR GIRLS.
BY
ROSA NOUCHETTE CAREY
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I. The Last Day at Redmayne House.
CHAPTER II. The Arrival at Combe Manor.
CHAPTER III. Dot.
CHAPTER IV. Uncle Geoffrey.
CHAPTER V. The Old House at Milnthorpe.
CHAPTER VI. The Flitting.
CHAPTER VII. Over the Way.
CHAPTER VIII. Flurry and Flossy.
CHAPTER IX. The Cedars.
CHAPTER X. "I Wish I Had a Dot of My Own."
CHAPTER XI. Miss Ruth's Nurse.
CHAPTER XII. I Was Not Like Other Girls.
CHAPTER XIII. "We Have Missed Dame Bustle."
CHAPTER XIV. Playing in Tom Tidler's Ground.
CHAPTER XV. Life at the Brambles.
CHAPTER XVI. The Smugglers' Cave.
CHAPTER XVII. A Long Night.
CHAPTER XVIII. "You Brave Girl!"
CHAPTER XIX. A Letter from Home.
CHAPTER XX. "You Were Right, Esther."
CHAPTER XXI. Santa Claus.
CHAPTER XXII. Allan and I Walk to Eltham Green.
CHAPTER XXIII. Told in the Sunset.
CHAPTER XXIV. Ringing the Changes.
ESTHER
CHAPTER I.
THE LAST DAY AT REDMAYNE HOUSE.
What trifles vex one!
I was always sorry that my name was Esther; not that I found fault withthe name itself, but it was too grave, too full of meaning for such aninsignificant person. Some one who was learned in such matters—I thinkit was Allan—told me once that it meant a star, or good fortune.
It may be so, but the real meaning lay for me in the marginal note ofmy Bible: Esther, fair of form and good in countenance, that Hadassah,who was brought to the palace of Shushan, the beautiful Jewish queenwho loved and succored her suffering people; truly a bright particularstar among them.
Girls, even the best of them, have their whims and fancies, and I neverlooked at myself in the glass on high days and holidays, when a festivegarb was desirable, without a scornful protest, dumbly uttered, againstso shining a name. There was such a choice, and I would rather havebeen Deborah or Leah, or even plain Susan, or Molly; anything homely,that would have suited my dark, low-browed face. Tall and angular, andhard-featured—what business had I with such a name?
"My dear, beauty is only skin-deep, and common sense is worth itsweight in gold; and you are my good sensible Esther," my mother saidonce, when I had hinted rather too strongly at my plainness. Dear soul,she was anxious to appease the pangs of injured vanity, and was full ofsuch sweet, balmy speeches; but girls in the ugly duckling stage arenot alive to moral compliments; and, well—perhaps I hoped my mothermight find contradiction possible.
Well, I am older and wiser now, less troublesomely introspec