"Well, I think he's a very odd sort of man; and I don't think he'd any business to cut off your hair, Esther. Did you know he was going to do it?"

"No, I never thought of such a thing. I only said it made my head hot at nights, or something like that. And then he got a big pair of scissors and cut it all off in a minute."

"I think it looks rather nice like that," said Prissy, with a critical glance, "though it does stand on end rather. I should think you would enjoy not having it combed out at nights."

"I've decided now!" cried Puck, shouting out suddenly the great new idea. "I shall call you Ess now. It'll do for Esther, and for Shorn Sheep too. Old Bobby calls you that himself now, so he can't scold us.

You shall be Ess. Don't you think that's a nice, easy, short name?"

Mr. Trelawny was soon seen stalking away up the path towards the Crag, and Mrs. Polperran's voice was heard calling for Prissy. Esther stole back to her mother's side, and asked timidly,--

"You're not vexed with me, mama dear? Indeed I did not know what he was going to do."

"No, dear, I suppose not. It's no use making a trouble of it now it's done. It was certainly a liberty to take; but it's never any use being angry with Mr. Trelawny--he only laughs and makes a joke of it. Besides, he always has looked upon you rather in the light of his ward. Your father did write to him before he died, asking him to give an eye to us, and to take care of us both if we wanted it. I suppose he thinks he has some rights over you; and he has been very kind to us, so we must not say too much."

Esther listened very gravely. She did not know exactly what a ward might be, but she fancied that it made her in some sort the property of the redoubtable Mr. Trelawny. It was rather an alarming notion; but Esther said nothing, for it had been her endeavor all these past months, since her father's death, never to trouble her mother needlessly.

"You should have told me about your headaches, dear," said Mrs. St.

Aiden, stroking Esther's hand. "Perhaps we could have cured them then without the sacrifice of your pretty hair."

"O mama, they weren't so very bad. I didn't want to worry you. But I think I shall be much better now without my hair."

"And what made you faint in the cave, dear? You frightened Mr. Trelawny and Mr. Earle, I think."

Esther thought it had been the other way; but she only said, after a little hesitation,--

"There didn't seem any air down there, and it was all so dark and queer, it made me feel funny; but I didn't know I fainted."

"Well, I have told Mr. Trelawny not to take you there again. I have always had that sort of dislike to caves and underground places myself.

Men don't understand that sort of thing; but you had better never go there again, Esther."

"Oh, thank you, mama!" cried Esther earnestly.

It was an immense relief to feel that she need never go back to the cave, and that Mr. Trelawny had been told not to take her there. She could almost face the idea of going up to the Crag to see the books, if she were safe from that terrible place. Things seemed suddenly to be brighter and happier altogether. Esther was quite lively that evening; and as Genefer brushed the shorn head at night she remarked,--

"Well, Miss Esther, it's made a good bit of difference to your looks; but I always did say to the missus that it was a pity to let you grow such a mane of hair now. Very likely you would have had it grow thin and poor as you grew up; but if you keep it cropped short for a few years, you'll have a nice head of hair when you're a young lady and want it again."

On Sunday afternoon Milly and Bertie Polperran came to the Hermitage to spend the time with their little friends there, as on Sat.u.r.day they had not met.

Prissy taught a little cla.s.s in the Sunday school; but Milly and Bertie were free, only that they had some little verses and part of a hymn to learn, and they had leave to say them to Esther to-day.

Esther had been rather exercised in her mind about the fashion in which Pickle and Puck spent their Sundays. They went to church in the morning with her, and kept her pretty much on tenter-hooks all the time, although they had never done anything very outrageous so far. But their eyes always seemed everywhere, and nothing escaped their observation; and they would giggle in a subdued yet sufficiently audible fashion, if anything amused them, and sometimes try to make Esther or their little friends opposite join them in their ill-timed hilarity.

After having been to church, they seemed to consider that for them Sunday had ended, and they played about and amused themselves just as they pleased.

"Crump always played with us on Sunday afternoons," they would say when Esther suggested something more quiet and decorous, according to her ideas. They did not seem to understand why they should be more quiet on Sunday than on any other day, and it was not quite easy for Esther to explain.

"They must have been badly brought up," Prissy would say in her prim, grown-up fashion. "I think their father must be a very strange sort of man." But when Esther spoke to Genefer, she was a little comforted by hearing her say,--

"You see, Miss Esther, the poor little boys have had no mother to teach them, and gentlemen don't think of things quite like mothers. I don't think they mean to be naughty a bit, but they've not been taught as you have. Perhaps they'll get into better ways living here for a spell. But it's no good preaching at them. That'll never do it. You only get at children by making them love you. Then they like the things you like, and they learn different ways. They're getting fond of you, Miss Esther, my dear. They'll begin to copy you by and by, whether they know it or not."

Esther did not think Pickle and Puck had much notion of copying anybody; but she thought they were growing fond of her in a fashion, and she was certainly growing fond of them. If they brought new anxiety into her life, they brought a considerable amount of pleasure and variety too.

She did not at all regret the arrangement, although she wished the boys had been just a little younger, so that she might have had more influence over them.

"We're going to have a Sunday school, and you're to teach!" cried Milly, running up to Esther as she sat in the yew arbor, thinking that the four little ones would rather be alone together. "We've learned our lessons, and Pickle and Puck have learned something, too; and now we're going to come and be a cla.s.s, and you're to teach us."

There was plenty of room in the summer-house for the cla.s.s; and a chair was set for Esther, whilst her four scholars occupied the fixed bench that ran round the arbor. They came in with looks of decorous gravity, and the boys pulled their forelocks, and Milly made a courtesy, whilst Esther felt half-embarra.s.sed at so much respect and deference.

The little Polperrans repeated their lessons with the readiness of those accustomed to such tasks. Pickle followed with a fair show of fluency; and Puck said a short text with great deliberation, prompted from time to time by Milly, who had evidently "coached" him up in it.

At the close he looked up into Esther's face and asked with due solemnity, evidently put up to the right phraseology by either Bertie or Milly,--

"Please, teacher, what is the sin that so easily besets us?"

There was a faint giggle from Bertie; but Puck had thrown himself into his part, and was as solemn as a judge. Esther was a little embarra.s.sed at the position in which she found herself, but she strove to find a suitable answer.

"I think it's different things with different people," she said after a pause. "You know some people are naughty in some ways, and some in others. We don't all sin alike."

Pickle here broke in eagerly,--

"Let's think of the naughty things people do. Mr. Trelawny cut off your hair yesterday without asking leave. Wasn't that a sort of sin?"

Esther was rather taken aback at this method of treating the subject; but before she had found words in which to reply, the boy had broken out again,--

"I tell you what I think it is--the sin that so easily besets him is doing just as he likes, and being what Crump calls 'lord high everything.' Don't you think that's Uncle Bob's sin, Ess?"

Esther looked straight at Pickle, and answered with some spirit,--

"I know somebody else who always wants to do as he likes, and cares very little what other people say or think."

Pickle looked suddenly taken aback.

"My stars!" he exclaimed.

Bertie pointed one finger at Pickle and another at Puck. His square face was bubbling over with a subdued sense of humor.

"She means you," said Puck: "I know she does. It's just what you're always saying. You do what you like, and don't care what people say. If it's a sin, it's your sin too."

"Oh dear!" cried Pickle, really interested now; "I never thought of that before. Did you mean that, Ess?"

Esther's face was rosy red now; she spoke truthfully, however.

"I think I did, Pickle. You know you do like your own way. But I think we all like that. I suppose that's one of the sins that easily besets us all."

"I don't think it besets you," said Pickle loyally; "you're always doing things you don't like, to spare other people, or because they want you to."

"It besets Prissy!" cried Milly eagerly; "she always wants her own way.

She likes to be 'lord high everything' too. She's been as cross as two sticks lately, because Bertie and I have kept secrets from her, and she can't do just as she likes with us."