Yet in whom could she confide?
Girl friends she had in plenty but not one whose judgment she could trust before her own.

Had the minister been an older man or a man of different calibre she might have gone to him, but the idea of appealing to Mr.
Macnair was distasteful.

Neither among her father's friends was there one to whom she cared to go for advice concerning her father's widow.
They had one and all disapproved, she knew, of the sudden second marriage and Dr.Coombe had never quite forgiven their disapproval.
Often she felt like refusing the responsibility altogether.

After all, her step-mother was a woman quite old enough to manage her own affairs.
If she wished to foolishly imperil her health why need Esther care?
Why indeed?
But this train of reasoning never lasted long.

Always there came a counter-question, "If you do not care, who will ?" And the dearth of any answer settled the burden more firmly upon her rebellious shoulders.
For one thing there was always the inner knowledge that Mary Coombe was weak and that she, Esther, was strong.