“But you will put it back before she misses it?”

Mrs. Coombe could see her step-daughter’s face quite plainly and its expression made her wince, but she was reckless to-night.  After all, why pretend?  If Esther intended to eternally interfere with her affairs the sooner an open break came, the better.

“Perhaps, perhaps not.  Certainly not until I return from my visit.”

Esther fought down her rising dismay.

“Mother, don’t you understand what you are doing?  The ring is Aunt Amy’s You have no right to take it!”

“I’ve a right if I choose to make one.”

“If Auntie finds out it is not in its box, we cannot tell what the effect may be!”

“She needn’t find out.  What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her!”

“But—­it is stealing!”

Mrs. Coombe laughed.  “What a baby you are, Esther, for all your solemn eyes and grown-up airs.  Stealing—­the idea!  Anyway you need not worry since you are not the thief.”  She yawned again, rose, and declared that she felt quite tired enough to go to bed.

When she had gone, Jane left her lessons and came to her sister’s side.

“Esther, do I really have to go away with Mother?”

“It looks like it, Janie.  But you’ll like it.  Mrs. Bremner has a little girl.”

“I don’t like little girls.”

“Then you ought to!  The change will probably do you good.”

Jane looked dubious.  “Things that I don’t want never do me any good.  Will you help me with my ’rithmetic?”

“I will when I come back.”

“Where’re you going?”

“Out.  I’ll not be long.  Answer Aunt Amy’s bell if it rings, like a dear child.”

Esther’s decision had been made, as many important decisions are, suddenly, and without conscious thought.  All the puzzling over what was right and wrong seemed no longer necessary.  Without knowing why, she knew that it had become imperative to get some good advice and get it at once.  If she had been disturbed and uneasy before, she was frightened now.  Something must be done, if not for Mary’s sake at least for the sake of the honoured name she bore, and for Jane’s sake!

“Mother doesn’t seem to know when a thing is wrong any more!” was the burden of the girl’s thought as she hurried upstairs.

She knew where the prescription was kept—­in a little drawer of her father’s old desk, a drawer supposed to be secret.  To-morrow Mary would take it away with her.  Esther opened the drawer without allowing herself a moment for thought or regret.  The paper was there, folded, in its usual place.

With a sigh of relief she seized it, hurried to her own room for her hat and then out into the summer night.  A brisk five minute walk brought her to Mrs. Sykes’ gate, and there, for the first time, she hesitated.

“Evening, Esther!” called Mrs. Sykes cheerfully from the veranda.  “Come right along in.  Mrs. Coombe told Ann you might be over to borrow the telescope valise if she decided to take Jane.  Rather sudden, her going away, isn’t it?  Hadn’t heard a word about it until the Ladies’ Aid—­come up and sit on the veranda and I’ll get it.”