Women are supposed, by men, to have a defective sense of loyalty and it is a belief fairly well established, also among men, that there is a fundamental difference in the attitude of the sexes to that high thing called honour.  Esther was both loyal and honourable.  To deceive her step-mother, however good the motive, could not but be horrible to her and just now, being angry with a very young and healthy anger, she was less willing than ever to lose her own self-respect in the service of Mary Coombe.

“I won’t!” said Esther firmly, and went in to prepare Aunt Amy’s supper.

“I don’t feel like I ought to be eating upstairs this way,” fussed the invalid as Esther came in with the tray.  “I am so much better.  That medicine the doctor gave me helped me right away.  He must be a very smart man, Esther.”

“It looks like it, Auntie.”

“I don’t doubt I’ll be around to-morrow just like he said.  So I don’t want you staying home from school.  That girl you get to take your place is kind of cross with the children, isn’t she?”

“She is strict.”

“Well, don’t get her.  I don’t like to think about the children being scared out of their lives on my account.  So I’ll just get up as usual.  I could get up now if necessary.  And my mind feels better.”

“Your mind?” Never before had Esther heard Aunt Amy refer to “her” mind as being in any way troublesome.

“Yes.  I suppose you never knew, but sometimes I have felt a little worried about my mind.”

“Whatever for?” The surprise which still lingered on the girl’s voice was balm to Aunt Amy’s soul.  She laughed nervously.

“Of course it was foolish,” she said, “but really there have been times when I have felt—­felt, I can hardly express it, but as if there were a little something wrong, you know.  Did you ever guess that I felt like that, Esther?”

“No, Auntie.”

Aunt Amy shivered.  For a moment her faded eyes grew large and dark.  “I’m glad you did not guess it.  It is a dreadful feeling, like night and thunder and no place to go.  A black feeling!  I used to be afraid I might get caught in the blackness and never find a way out and then—­”

“And then what, dear?”

“Why, then—­I’d be mad, Esther!”

“Oh, darling, how awful!” Esther’s warm young arms clasped the trembling old creature close.  “You must never, never be afraid again!  Why didn’t you tell me and let me help?”

“I couldn’t.  You would not have believed me.  And it would have frightened you.  And you might have told Mary.  If Mary knew of it she would be certain to be frightened and if she was frightened she would send me away.  Then the darkness would get me.”

“It never shall, Auntie.  No one shall ever send you away!  And you won’t be afraid any more, will you?”

“No, not if you don’t keep telling me that things I know aren’t true.  I know they are true, you see, but when you say they aren’t it makes my head go round.”