Esther's handsome face relaxed. Really it was very kind and thoughtful of Mr. Lang, who, with his influence, might prove a valuable friend to Jack.
"It is very good of you, and in his last letter Jack asked us to send him some collars and ties; they are such a fearful price at Johannesburg, and not good. But they are not bought yet, and you say you leave to-morrow?"
"Yes, but the shops will not be closed for some time, and my victoria is at the door, if you will honour me by using it to go where you wish."
Esther hesitated a moment; but the opportunity of saving expensive and troublesome postage, besides serving Jack, was too good to lose. Mr. Lang rose, and indicated a box lying on the table.
"I've brought you a little fruit, Miss Inglis, just sent to me from my country place near Dorking. My head-gardener prides himself on his peaches and nectarines; but I must leave you to judge."
"Oh, thank you!" cried Esther, with sparkling eyes; for she had not tasted a nectarine since leaving Mallowfleld. In a moment she had undone the satin ribbon which tied down the lid, and was feasting her eyes on such peaches as she had seldom seen.
"As you seem fond of fruit, I'll give orders to my gardener to send you a box periodically," observed Mr. Lang. "Oh, don't thank me; I shall be away, and somebody may as well enjoy it. And if you'll have the parcel and letters ready, my footman shall call for them to-morrow morning."
He accompanied Esther down to the street, where his beautifully appointed carriage was waiting; and it must be confessed she enjoyed finding herself seated behind a spruce coachman and footman once more. "You will take this lady's orders," pompously commanded Mr. Lang. "Keep the carriage as long as you like, Miss Inglis, and I'll not forget about the parcel."
So manifest was his desire to propitiate, that Esther could do no less than bid him a civil farewell, with the hope that he might have a pleasant journey. Then she rolled away, looking so much at home in the smart carriage that Mr. Lang gazed after her admiringly.
"By Jove, how well she sets the whole thing off! Looks like a lady used to carriages all her life. May Burnside really isn't a patch upon Esther Inglis; there is no mistake about that!"