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depend on a Board with Tom Dilhorne on it. Were her father alive, he would have had her out of the room in an instant—once he had recovered from the shock of seeing an ex-felon enshrined in state, that was. Just as well, perhaps, that he was not alive.
    She had to acknowledge, however, that the wretch was a lot better looking than she had expected, quite handsome in an odd way—though he did not attract her , by no means. But she had to admit that he was very well turned out, particularly his waistcoat. That was very fine.
    At this point Hester twisted her hands in her lap. If the Board did not return soon with their verdict, she fearedthat she might faint before them from a mixture of fear and hunger.
    She sat up smartly. Oh, no, I won’t, she thought, and if they turn me down I won’t cry or have hysterics, although God knows what I shall do if they don’t appoint me. Her mind went round and round until she felt dizzy, so that when the door opened and Robert Jardine beckoned her in she gave a great jump and turned a white scared face towards him.
    â€˜The Board will give you their decision now, Miss Waring,’ and he held the door open for her.
    She walked in, her head high, a little colour staining her thin cheeks. She tried to keep her hands still as she bowed to them, and waited for the Chairman to speak. Her father had been a friend of Godfrey Burrell’s before drink had destroyed him. Once, when she was a little girl, he had given her a paper of sweets—but that was long ago.
    He began in his usual pompous style. ‘Miss Waring, the Board is prepared to offer you the post, provided that you understand that you must serve a probationary period of three months to determine your suitability. If, at the end of that time, your performance is not satisfactory, you will be dismissed forthwith. Mr Jardine, the clerk, has so minuted. Do you understand me?’
    â€˜Perfectly,’ said Hester shortly, staring blindly in the direction of Tom who shifted uncomfortably in his chair at the sight of her evident distress.
    Godfrey Burrell felt impelled to make Hester fully aware of the precarious nature of her appointment. ‘I feel bound to tell you, Miss Waring, that the Board has made you this offer with some reluctance. There are those among us who fear that you will not be up to the task. It is to be hoped that you will prove them wrong.’
    I was right, thought Hester. It’s Tom Dilhorne, still trying to get back at Father. Well, damn him, I’ll prove him wrong. I’ll have to prove him wrong. It was impossible for her to imagine the truth: that only her father’s ogre had saved her.
    â€˜I will do my best to give you satisfaction,’ she added steadily.
    â€˜Good, good.’ Burrell was in haste to go to his dinner. Something about Hester disturbed him. Probably Dilhorne was right again, damn him. As he looked at her, it seemed possible that she was not getting enough to eat.
    He had a sudden flash of memory of the pretty little girl she had been when the Warings had first arrived in Sydney. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Well, they had given her a chance, which was more than many got. He indicated the clerk, standing by the table, head bent.
    â€˜Jardine will give you the particulars of your post and he will be in charge of your remuneration. He will give you a small advance to tide you over until pay-day. If you wish to communicate with the Board, you will do so through him. So far as monitoring your performance is concerned, I am proposing that Mr Dilhorne shall oversee you for the next three months.’
    What the devil does he know about education, or teaching, for that matter? thought Hester’s Mentor nastily. I’ll see him and the rest of you in Hell before I give you the satisfaction of dismissing me.
    Hester’s expression was so demure that the only person who could detect the seething rage behind her subservient mask was Tom