“You see,” went on the prevaricator cheerfully, “it would be necessary to run down to Toronto soon anyway.  I haven’t a rag fit to wear and neither has Jane.  But Detroit is better.  Things are much cheaper across the line.  And easy as anything to smuggle.  All you need to do is to wear them once and swear they’re old.”

“An oath is nothing?  But where is the money coming from?”

Mrs. Coombe shrugged her shoulders.  “One can’t get along without clothes!  And even if I could, there is another reason for the trip.  My medicine is almost finished.  I can’t risk being without that.”

It was the opportunity for which Esther had waited.  She spoke eagerly.

“Why not try getting it filled here?  I’m sure they are as careful as possible at Taylor’s.”

The hand-bag shut with a particularly emphatic click.  Mrs. Coombe rose.

“We have discussed that before,” she said coldly.  “It is a very particular prescription and hard to fill.  As it means so much to me in my wretched health to have it exactly right, I am surprised at you, Esther!”

Esther put the surprise aside.

“You could get it by mail, couldn’t you?”

“I shall not try to get it by mail.”

“But Taylor’s are absolutely reliable.  Why not give them a chance?  If it is not satisfactory I shall never say another word.  It seems so senseless going to Detroit for a few drugs which may be had around the corner.  Perhaps it is not as difficult to fill as you think.  Let me show the prescription to Dr. Callandar—­” She stopped suddenly for Mrs. Coombe had grown white, a pasty white, and she broke in upon the girl’s suggestion with a little inarticulate cry of rage, so uncalled for, so utterly unexpected, that Esther was frightened.  For a moment the film seemed brushed from the hazel eyes—­the blinds were raised and angry fear peeped out.

“You wouldn’t dare!” The words were a mere breath.  Then meeting the girl’s look of blank amazement she caught herself from the brink of hysteria and added more calmly, “What an impossible suggestion!  I need no second opinion upon the remedy which your father prescribed for me and I shall take none.  As for the journey, I shall ask your advice when I wish it.  At present I am capable of managing my own affairs.  I shall come and go as I like.”

The would-be firm voice wavered wrathed badly toward the end of this defiance, but the widely opened eyes were still shining and as she turned to enter the house, Esther caught a look in them, a gleam of something very like hate.

“So that is what comes of asking,” said Esther sombrely.

She did not follow her step-mother into the house but remained for a while on the veranda, thinking.  It was clearly useless to reopen the subject of the prescription.  For some reason Mrs. Coombe regarded it as a fetish.  She would not trust it to Taylor’s.  She would not allow a doctor to see it; there remained only the suggestion of Dr. Callandar that it be inspected without her consent.  Esther knew where the prescription was kept, but—­