"MY DEAR KITTY: I want you and Miss Florence Aylmer and Miss Mary Bateman to spend to-morrow with me at Cherry Court Park. Mrs. Clavering will accompany you, and I have written to her also on the subject. My dear child, my reason in having you three girls is simply that I want to study your characters. I say this quite frankly, and you may tell both your companions that such is my intention in having you to spend a long day with me. I will do all I can to make you happy, and I think it but fair to put all three of you on your guard, for please understand that the Scholarship is given, not only for scholarly attainments and correct deportment, but also for those lofty traits of character which are a greater possession to any woman than either ladylike manners or great accomplishments. Pray do not be anything but your natural selves to-morrow, for I shall never allude to this matter again. From now until the date when the Scholarship is to be decided, I will expect you three to spend one day a week at Cherry Court Park.
"Your affectionate friend,"JOHN WALLIS."
The news that the lucky three were to spend a whole day at Cherry Court Park caused great excitement amongst the other girls of the school.
"It's nothing short of delightful," said Alice Cunningham to her sister; "I only wish I had such a chance."
"Well, you have not, so there's no use in fretting about it," replied Mabel. "They certainly are having a good time, but who will win? I vote for Florence."
"And I for Kitty," said Alice; "who has a chance beside Kitty? She is the most brilliant of the three girls, and such a favorite with Sir John."
"But for that very reason she may have less chance of winning, because Sir John is a wonderfully just man. Did you ever see anyone so terribly in earnest as Florence? Her eyes have quite a strained look at times, and she does not eat half as much as she did; then she gets such long, long letters from that wonderful aunt of hers. She did not get those letters at all last term, and her dress is so smart, and she has such heaps of pocket-money; there is a great change in Florence. Sometimes I feel that I want her to win, but at other times all my sympathies are for Kitty."
"No one seems to think of poor Mary Bateman," said Edith King, in a thoughtful voice, "and yet in reality she is one of the nicest girls in the school, and if she wins the Scholarship, for she has been telling me all about it, she is to go to Girton."
"Where in the name of wonder is Girton?" asked Alice Cunningham.
"Oh, it is a College for Women which has been opened near Cambridge."
"Then if I thought I had to go to a College for Women I should be rather sorry to win the Scholarship," said Mabel Cunningham; "but there, don't let us talk of it any more. We are to have something of a half-holiday to-day, for Mrs. Clavering is to take the three lucky ones to Cherry Court Park."
Florence dressed herself with great care for this expedition. Kitty had shown her Sir John's letter, and she had felt a queer tingling pain at her heart as she read it; but then a sort of defiance, which was growing more and more in her character day by day, arose to her aid, and she determined that she would not give Sir John one loophole to find out anything amiss in her conduct.
"We are going to be spied upon, and it is perfectly horrid," she said, under her breath, "but never mind, I am determined to stand the test."
The day happened to be a lovely one, and Florence looked carefully through her wardrobe. She finally decided to put on the light summer silk which Mrs. Aylmer had provided for her. She looked very nice in that silk, almost pretty, and as all its accompaniments were perfect, the lace ruffles round the neck, the lace hanging over her hands, the trimmings of every sort just as they ought to be, the hat which she was to wear with the dress, specially chosen by the London dressmaker for the purpose, no one could look more elegant than Florence did as she stood in the hall of Cherry Court School just before she started for Cherry Court Park.
Kitty, on the other hand, had thought very little about her dress; she had no fine clothes to wear, so she just put on a clean white muslin dress, tied a colored sash round her waist, put her sailor hat on her head, and ran downstairs, a light in her eyes and a pleased smile round her lips.
"I cannot be anything great," she whispered to her heart, as she glanced for a moment at Florence, who looked something like a fashion plate as she stood in the hall, "but at least I'll be myself. I'll try—yes, I'll try very hard to forget all about the Scholarship to-day. I want to make dear Sir John happy, and I hope, I do hope he'll tell me something about father and the time they spent together outside Sebastopol."
Mary Bateman was the downright sort of girl who never under any circumstances could trouble herself about dress. She wore her best Sunday frock, that was all, and her best hat, and her gloves were a little darned at the tips, but she looked like a lady and was not the least self-conscious.
Sir John's own carriage was to arrive to fetch the ladies to the Park. Cherry Court Park was between two and three miles away from Cherry Court School, and Mrs. Clavering and her three pupils greatly enjoyed their drive to the splendid old place. Kitty had been there twice before, once with her father and once without him, but neither Florence nor Mary had ever seen the interior of the Park. Mary's exclamations of rapture as they drove under the overhanging trees and down the long winding avenue were frequent and enthusiastic. Florence, however, scarcely spoke; she was not a girl to be much impressed by external beauty; she was thinking all the time how she could keep the best and most amiable part of her character to the fore. What did Sir John mean to do? What sort of test was he going to apply to her? She felt that she must be armed on every point.
"My dear girls," said Mrs. Clavering, just as they were approaching the house, "I see you are all a little nervous, thinking that a somewhat strange test will be applied to you to-day, but I assure you, my dears, that nothing of the kind is intended, and I beg of you, as you wish to impress your kind host favorably, to be at any cost natural and true to yourselves. Florence dear, I would specially beg of you to remember my words. Don't set your heart too much on any earthly good thing, my child, for often those who lose gain more than those who win."
But Florence shook off the gentle hand; she could scarcely stand Mrs. Clavering's words just then, and avoided meeting her eyes.
Sir John stood on the steps of his magnificent old house to welcome his guests. As the carriage drew up beside the porch he came down and extended his hand to each.
"Welcome, welcome," he said, "thrice welcome! What a lovely day we have! Mrs. Clavering, I hope to have the privilege of taking you round my gardens, which are just in their autumn prime, and as to you three girls, will you amuse yourselves exactly as you please until luncheon-time?"
"Thank you so much," said Mary, in her blunt voice. She could never act a part to save her life. "That is just what I should like best to do," she added, smiling and dimpling. She had a jolly little face, somewhat tanned with the sun, two round good-humored brown eyes, and a wide mouth. Her teeth were white, however, and her smile pleasant.
"Kitty, my dear," said Sir John, turning to Kitty Sharston, "you have been here before and I depute to you the task of doing the honors. Take the girls wherever you please. If, for instance," added Sir John, "you three would like to have a row on the lake there is the boat all moored and ready. Kitty, you know how to handle an oar?"
"Rather," said Kitty; "I have rowed more or less since I could walk."
"Well, then, that is all right; but if you require any assistance you have but to call one of the gardeners, there are sure to be plenty about. Now off you go, all three; forget the old man, and enjoy yourselves as happy girls should."
As Sir John spoke he gave his arm with old-fashioned courtesy to Mrs. Clavering, and the two turned away.
"Now, is not this just like dear Sir John?" said Kitty, beginning to dance about. "Come, girls, I'll have greatest pleasure in taking you about."
"I am surprised to hear that you know all about Cherry Court Park," said Florence, in a somewhat cross voice, but then she remembered herself and made an effort to smile.
"I have been here twice before," said Kitty. "What do you say to having a row? Mary, what do you wish?"
"If you will allow me to do exactly what I like," said Mary, "I don't want anyone to guide me; I want to wander here, there, and everywhere just at my own sweet will. I have brought my little sketch-book with me, and mean to sketch some of these splendid old trees. Mother is so fond of outdoor sketches, and I could seldom indulge her with anything so fine as I could get in an old place like this. Just go off where you please, girls, and don't bother about me."
Off ran Mary on her sturdy legs, and Florence looked after her with a laugh.
"Poor Mary," she said, in a contemptuous tone.
"Why poor?" asked Kitty; "I think Mary is such a downright, jolly, sensible sort of girl."
"Oh, very downright and sensible," said Florence. "Kitty, do you really want to go in the boat?"
"Not if you don't want to go," said Kitty, looking somewhat anxiously at her companion.
"But I see you do; I notice the expression in your eyes."
"Well, it's very sweet in the boat, it does soothe one so; the last time I was there it was with father; but never mind, I won't go if you would rather not. Shall we sit under this tree and talk?"
"Yes, let us," said Florence. "I feel very cross to-day; I don't exactly know what is the matter."
"I wish you would tell me some of your troubles, Flo."
"How can I; you are my enemy."
"Nonsense, nonsense! how can you regard me in that light? You make me quite miserable when you talk as you do."
"And I meant to be amiable to-day," said poor Florence, "but somehow everything grates. It is Aunt Susan. Kitty, you cannot understand my position. I have to be civil and pleasant to one whom I—but there, don't talk of it."
"I don't quite understand; I wonder if you feel for your Aunt Susan as I feel for Helen Dartmoor."
"The lady you are to live with if you lose the Scholarship?"
"Yes," replied Kitty, sadly.
"You had better make up your mind to like her then, Kitty, for you will have to live with her."
"Why do you say that?"
"Only that I mean to get the Scholarship, and I think my will is stronger than yours."
"It is not a case of will," said Kitty, trembling a little as she spoke.
"Isn't it? I rather fancy it is. But there, we are to be amiable to-day, are we not? Look at Mary sitting under that tree and sketching as if her life depended on it. I wonder if she is really doing it hoping to please Sir John."
"Not a bit of it; that would not be Mary's way. All the same," added Kitty, in a thoughtful voice, "he will be delighted. Mary's sketches are very spirited, and Sir John loves people to appreciate his place. He will ask you what you think about it at lunch, Florry; you had really better let me show you round a bit."
"If that is the case, certainly," said Florence. She got up, and she and Kitty began to wander through the different grounds. They had nearly completed their peregrinations, having wandered over many acres of cultivated and lovely land, when the luncheon bell summoned them back to the house.
"Oh, I am so hungry," said Kitty, "and Sir John has the most splendid luncheons. I wonder where Mary is."
The girls looked to right and left, but could not see a sign of Mary Bateman anywhere. They approached the house. A great big colley came up, wagging his tail slowly, and thrust his nose into Kitty's hand.
"Dear old Watch, how sweet you are!" said the girl.
She bent down, flinging her arms round the colley's neck, and pressed a kiss on a white star on his forehead.
Just then Sir John's voice was heard calling them. "Hey, little women," he said, "I hope you had a pleasant time and enjoyed yourselves as much as I meant you to."
"Yes, I have enjoyed myself immensely," said Kitty. "Haven't you, too, Florry!"
"Yes," replied Florence, "I like the place and the gardens."
In spite of herself she spoke in a stiff, constrained voice; she felt that Sir John's eye was upon her. She wondered how Kitty could forget all that hung upon this visit.
Kitty's face was quite careless and happy, there was a wild-rose bloom on her cheeks which did not visit them very often, and her large pathetic grey eyes looked more beautiful than ever.
Mrs. Clavering now came forward.
"Come upstairs, dears," she said, "and wash your hands before lunch."
The girls followed their mistress up the great central hall and ascended the low oak stairs. They entered a bedroom magnificently furnished.
"What a great delightful place this is!" said Florence; "fancy any one person owning it!" She heaved a quick sigh as she spoke.
"It is a great responsibility having a place like this and so much money," answered Mrs. Clavering. "Florence dear, I don't want to preach—in fact, there is nothing I hate more, but I should like to say one thing. Happiness in the world is far more evenly divided than anyone has the least idea of. Riches are eagerly coveted by those who are poor, but the rich have immense responsibilities. Remember, my child, that we all have to give an account with regard to our individual talents some day."
Florence stirred restlessly and approached the window.
"I wonder where Mary is," she said, and just as she uttered the words the silver gong in the hall sounded, and the three ladies hurried down to luncheon.
Still no sign of Mary, but just as they were all wondering with regard to her absence, the door was opened, and a girl, with a smudge on her face and her hat pushed crooked on her head, entered the room. She held her little sketch-book and came eagerly forward.
"Oh, I am sorry I am late," she said; "I hope I kept no one waiting. I forgot all about it—it was that wonderful old oak-tree."
"What, the grenadier?" said Sir John, with a smile. "Have you been sketching it, Miss Bateman?"
"I have been trying to, but it is awfully difficult."
"You must let me see your attempt."
He went up to Mary, took her sketch-book, opened it, and a smile of pleasure flitted across his face as he saw the very clever and spirited sketch which the girl had made.
"Ah!" he said, "I am delighted you like this sort of thing. Would you like to take many views from my grounds?"
"Certainly—better than anything in the world almost," said Mary.
"Well, let me offer you my arm now into lunch. Ladies, will you follow us, please?"
Florence's brow contracted with a frown. Mrs. Clavering took Kitty's hand, motioned to Florence to follow, and they went into the dining-room.
During the rest of the meal Sir John devoted himself to Mary; her frank, commonplace face, her downright manners, her total absence of all self-consciousness pleased him. He found her a truly intelligent girl, and discovered in talking over her father that they knew some mutual friends.
To Kitty he hardly spoke, although he glanced at her once or twice. Florence seemed not to receive the most remote share of his attention.
"And yet," thought Florence to herself, "I am the only girl present properly dressed for the occasion. Surely Sir John, a thorough gentleman as he is, must notice that fact. I wonder what it can mean. Why does he devote himself to Mary? Am I wrong from first to last? Do girls who are real ladies think little or nothing about their dress? Would Sir John have been more inclined to be pleasant to me if Aunt Susan had never interfered?"
As these thoughts came to the restless and unhappy girl's mind she only played with her food, becamedistraitand inattentive, and had to be spoken to once or twice by Mrs. Clavering in order to recall her wandering attention.
Just as the meal came to an end Sir John turned to Kitty, then glanced at Florence, laid his hand emphatically on the table, touched Mary on her sleeve in order to ensure her attention, and spoke.
"Now," he said, "I am just going to say a word before we go for our afternoon expedition."
"Afternoon expedition! Are we going to have anything very jolly this afternoon?" said Kitty, her eyes sparkling.
"I hope so, my little girl; I have ordered horses for us all. I understand that you can all ride, and I thought we could ride to Culner's Heath, where we may enjoy a gipsy tea."
Even Florence almost forgot herself at this announcement. Could she ride in her silk dress? Had Sir John thought of habits? It seemed that Sir John had thought of everything.
"You will find habits in your bedroom, ladies," he said, "and you can choose your horses when they come up to the door—but one word first."
Mrs. Clavering, who had half risen from the table, now paused, arrested by an expression on her host's face.
"Yes," she said.
Sir John glanced at her and then smiled.
"I am about to speak to the girls," he said, "on the matter which we discussed this morning, my dear madam."
Mrs. Clavering smiled, and bowed her head.
"You know, my dear girls," continued Sir John, turning and addressing the three, "that the Scholarship competition will take place in a little over a month from now. Now, I mean that occasion to be a very grand occasion, I mean it to be strongly impressed upon the mind of every girl in Cherry Court School, and no pleasure which I can devise shall be omitted on the auspicious day. The happy winner of the Scholarship shall be truly crowned with laurels, bonfires are to be lighted in her honor, and the whole country-side is to be invited to attend the great function, which I propose to take place, not at the school, but in this house. I intend to invite the entire school to be my guests on the great day. They shall all come early in the morning and stay at this house until the following day. I am already making preparations for the delightful time. And now, there is one thing I want to ask. You three girls who are called by your companions the lucky three have it in your power to invite each one guest to witness your triumph. You are to name the guest to me, and I myself will send the invitation in proper style. I know who Kitty would like to have with her, but, failing that person, Kitty, is there anyone else whom you may think it perhaps not your pleasure, but your duty, to ask to be present?"
"There is only Helen Dartmoor," said Kitty, in a low voice, the crimson flush rising to her face, "and though it will be very unpleasant to have Helen here, if you think it right, Sir John, I—don't mind."
"That is very valiantly answered, Kitty, and I wish I might say at once that you need not have anyone present whom you do not wish to have present, but I rather think it would please your father if Miss Dartmoor received a proper invitation. I will ask her therefore, my dear child, if there is no one else you would rather have?"
"There is no one else that I can have, and I don't suppose I need see a great deal of Helen."
"Certainly not; she will only arrive at the Park the day before the Scholarship competition takes place."
"Then I suppose she must come," said Kitty.
"It would be a kindness," said Sir John, slowly. "I happen to know Miss Dartmoor; she has few pleasures."
Kitty nodded. Sir John turned to Mary.
"Now, then, Miss Bateman, whom am I to ask on your account?"
"Oh, father, father! How delightful! how he will enjoy it!" said Mary, her eyes sparkling, her face beaming. "He will so thoroughly appreciate it all, and it will be so splendid of you, Sir John."
"How very free and easy Mary Bateman is," thought Florry to herself.
Sir John smiled, took down Mr. Bateman's address, and promised that the invitation should reach him in good time.
"I wonder if he will come. How he would love it!" thought Mary.
Sir John glanced at her pleased face with marked approval.
"And now, Miss Aylmer," he said, turning to Florence, "who will you have present—the one you love best: your mother, for instance?"
Now, Florence had sent one wild throbbing thought to the little Mummy the moment Sir John had spoken of his plan. How the Mummy would enjoy it, how she would revel in the good food and the lovely house! What a red-letter day it would be to her all her life, for all the rest of her years! How Sukey and Ann Pratt and the neighbors down at Dawlish would respect her for evermore! And doubtless the Mummy's dress might be managed, and—but what about Aunt Susan? Would Aunt Susan ever forgive her? She dared not run the risk of her displeasure; too much depended on keeping her in a good humor.
"I should like my aunt to come," she said, in a steady voice; "she is very kind to me and specially interested in the result of the Scholarship."
"I know; I have heard from Mrs. Aylmer," said Sir John, in a pleasant tone; "if you would really prefer her to have the invitation to your mother, it shall be as you wish, Miss Aylmer."
"I think it would be right," said Florence. Her heart gave a heavy throb, then seemed to stand still.
Sir John gave her one keen glance, and took down Mrs. Aylmer's address in his pocket-book.
"I happen to know your aunt, Miss Aylmer, and shall be pleased to extend hospitality to her on the auspicious event."
At the beginning of the autumn term there happened to come to the school a girl of the name of Bertha Keys. She was between seventeen and eighteen years of age, and came to Cherry Court School in the capacity of pupil teacher. She was not a pleasant girl to look at, and had Mrs. Clavering seen her before she engaged her she might have hesitated to bring her into the midst of her young scholars.
But Bertha was clever and outwardly amiable. She performed her duties with exactitude and despatch. She kept the younger girls in order, and was apparently very unselfish and willing to oblige, and Mrs. Clavering, after the first week or fortnight, ceased to feel apprehensive when she looked at her face. For Bertha's face bore the impress of a somewhat crooked mind. The small light blue eyes had a sly gleam in them; they were incapable of looking one straight in the face. Bertha had the fair complexion which often accompanies a certain shade of red hair, and but for the expression in her eyes she might have been a fairly good-looking girl. She had an upright trim figure, and dressed herself neatly. Those watchful eyes, however, marred the entire face. They were as clever as they were sharp and knowing. Nothing escaped her mental vision. She could read character like a book.
Now, Bertha Keys was very poor. In her whole future life she had nothing to look forward to except what she could win by her own individual exertions. Bertha's apparent lot in life was to be a teacher—her own wish was to cringe to those in power, to obtain a footing amongst those who were likely to aid her, and she had not been a week in the school before she made up her mind that of all the girls at Cherry Court School no one was so likely to help her in the future as Florence Aylmer. If Florence won the Scholarship and became the adopted heiress of a rich aunt, the opportunities in favor of Bertha's advancement would be enormous. On the other hand, if Mary Bateman won the Scholarship nothing at all would happen to further Bertha's interest. The same might be said with regard to Kitty Sharston. Bertha, therefore, who was extremely sharp herself and thoroughly well educated, determined that she would not leave a stone unturned to help Florence with regard to the Scholarship. Nothing was said on the subject between Florence and Bertha for several weeks. Bertha never failed, however, to propitiate Florence, helping her when she could with her work, doing a thousand little nameless kindnesses for her, and giving her, when the opportunity offered, many sympathetic glances. She managed to glean from the younger girls something of Florence's history, noted when those long letters came from Mrs. Aylmer the great, observed how depressed Florence was when she received letters from Dawlish, noted her feverish anxiety to deport herself well, to lead a life of excellent conduct, and, above all things, to struggle through the weighty themes which had to be mastered in order to win the great Scholarship.
One day about three weeks before the Scholarship examination was to take place, and a week after the events related in the last chapter, Florence was engaged in reading a long letter from her Aunt Susan. Mrs. Aylmer had received her invitation to Cherry Court Park, and had written to her niece on the subject.
"I shall arrive the day before the Scholarship examination," she wrote, "and, my dear girl, will bring with me a dress suitable for you to wear on the great day. I have consulted my dressmaker, Madame le Rouge, and she suggests white bengaline, simply made and suitable to a young girl. Yours, my dear Florence, will be the simplest dress in the school, and yet far and away the most elegant, for what we have to aim at now is the extreme simplicity of graceful youth. Nothing costs more than simplicity, my dear girl, as you will discover presently. But more of that when we meet. One last word, dear Florence; of course, you will not fail. Were I to see you dishonored, I should never hold up my head again, and, as far as you are concerned, would wash my hands of you forever."
Florence's lips trembled as she read the last words. An unopened letter from her mother lay on her lap. She flung down Mrs. Aylmer's letter and took up her mother's. She had just broken the envelope and was preparing to read it when Dolly Fairfax rushed into the room.
"Florence, do come out for one moment," she said; "Edith wants to tell you something."
"Oh, I can't go; I am busy," said Florence, restlessly.
"I wish you would come; it is something important; it is something about to-night. Do come; Edith would come to you, but she is looking after two or three of the little ones in the cherry orchard. You can go back in five minutes."
Uttering a hasty exclamation, and thrusting her mother's letter into her pocket, Florence started up and followed Dolly. She forgot all about her aunt's letter, which had fallen to the floor.
She had scarcely left the room before Bertha Keys stepped forward, picked up the letter, read it from end to end, and having done so laid it back on Florence's desk. Florence returned presently, sat down by her desk, and, taking her mother's letter out of her pocket, read it.
The little Mummy was in trouble; she had contracted a bad cold, the cold had resolved into a sharp attack of pleurisy. She was now on the road to recovery, and Florence need not be the least bit anxious about her, but she had run up a heavy doctor's bill, and had not the slightest idea how she was to meet it.
"I do wish, Florence, my darling," she said, "you could manage to let me have some of that pocket-money which your Aunt Susan sends you every week. If I could give the doctor even one pound I know he would wait for the rest, and then there is the chemist, too, and I have to be a little careful now that the weather is getting chilly, and must have fires in the evening, and so on. Oh, I am quite well, my precious pet, but a little help from you would see me round this tight corner."
Florence ground her teeth and her eyes flashed. The little Mummy ill, ill almost to the point of danger. Better now, it is true, but wanting those comforts which Aunt Susan had in such abundance.
"I cannot stand it," thought the girl. "What is to be done? By fair means or foul, I must get that Scholarship. Oh, I fear nothing. I believe I am sure to win if only I can beat Kitty on her own ground. Her ground is history and literature. There is to be a horrible theme written, and a great deal depends on how that theme is handled, and I am no good at all at composition. I have no power with regard to picturesque writing. I cannot see pictures like Kitty can. I believe Sir John has set that theme on purpose, in order to give Kitty an advantage; if so, it is horribly unfair of him."
Florence muttered these words to herself; then she glanced again at her mother's letter. She put her hand into her pocket and pulled out her purse. That purse, owing to Aunt Susan's bounty, contained over two pounds. Florence resolved to send that two pounds to her mother immediately. She began to write, but had scarcely finished her letter before Bertha Keys, equipped for a walk, briskly entered the room.
"I am going to Hilchester," she said; "have you any message, Florence?"
"Oh, I should be so much obliged if you would post a letter for me," said Florence.
"I will, with pleasure," replied Bertha.
"Can you wait five minutes? I shall not be longer than that writing it."
"Yes," replied Bertha. She went and stood by the low window-ledge, and Florence bent over her sheet of paper. She wrote rapidly, a burning flush coming into each cheek.
"Oh, darling little Mummy," she wrote, "I am sending you all the money I have. Yes, you may be quite certain I will win the Scholarship by fair means or foul. I feel nearly mad when I think of your sufferings; but never mind, once the Scholarship is won and I am declared to the world to be the Cherry Court Scholarship girl, once I am crowned queen on the great day of the Scholarship competition, I shall, I perceive well, be able to do exactly what I like with Aunt Susan, and then be sure you shall not want. Please, dear Mummy, pay what is necessary of this to the doctor, and get yourself what you can in the way of nourishment. I am most, most anxious about you, my own darling little Mummy, and I vow at any risk that you shall have my ten shillings a week for the present. What do the girls at the school matter? What matters anything if you are ill? Oh, do take care of yourself for my sake, Mummy."
Bertha Keys moved restlessly, and Florence, having addressed the envelope and stamped it, went up to her.
"Look here," she said, eagerly, "I wish I could come with you, but I can't, for I have my lessons to prepare, and this is the night of the conversazione. If you would be truly kind, would you do something for me!"
"Of course I'll be truly kind," said Bertha; "I take a great interest in you, Miss Aylmer, but who would not who knew you well?"
"What do you mean by that?" said Florence, who was keenly susceptible to flattery.
Bertha gave a little contemptuous sniff.
"You are the only girl in the school whose friendship is worth cultivating," she said; "you have go and courage, and some day you will be very handsome; yes, I feel sure of it. I wish you would let me help you to form your figure; you might draw your stays a little tighter, and do your hair differently. I wish you would let me be your friend. You are the only girl in the school whose friendship I care twopence about."
"What!" said Florence, trembling slightly and looking full into Bertha's face, "do you think more about me than you do of Kitty Sharston?"
The pupil teacher gave a slight shrug of her shoulders.
"Miss Sharston," she said; "oh, a nice little girl, very nice and very amiable, but, my dear Miss Aylmer, you and she are not in the same running at all. But there, I must be quick; I have to return home in time to undress the little ones. Oh, what a lot is mine, and I pine for so much, so much that I can never have."
"Poor girl, I am sorry for you," said Florence; "but there, I won't keep you any longer. See, this is what I want you to do. Will you convert these two sovereigns into a postoffice order, and will you put it into this letter, and then fasten the envelope and put the whole into the post?"
Florence gave some more directions with regard to the postoffice order. In 1870 postal orders, much simpler things, were unknown. Bertha Keys promised, took in all the directions quickly, and started off on her mission.
She walked down the road as briskly as possible. The distance between Hilchester and Cherry Court School was between two and three miles. The road was a lonely one. Bertha presently crossed a stile and found herself in a shady lane. When she reached this point she looked behind her and in front of her; there was no one in sight. Then taking Florence's letter out of her pocket, she slowly and quietly read the contents. Having read them, a smile flitted across her face.
"Little Mummy," she said aloud, "you must do without your two pounds. Bertha Keys wants this money a great deal more urgently than you do. Florence must suppose that her letter has got lost in the post. Let her suppose what she will, this money is mine."
Having made these remarks under her breath, Bertha calmly tore poor Florence's letter into a thousand tiny fragments. These she scattered to the four winds, and then, humming a gay air to herself, proceeded on her way to Hilchester. She transacted her business, went to a shop and purchased out of one of Florence's sovereigns some gay ribbons and laces for her own bedizenment, and then returned home.
"Did you post my letter?" said Florence, who met her in one of the corridors.
"Yes, dear, I am glad to say it caught the evening post."
"Then that's right, and mother will receive it early to-morrow," thought the girl to herself.
The feeling that her money would relieve her mother contrived to ease her overburdened conscience, and she was more cheerful and happy-looking that evening.
The next day at an early hour, as Florence was standing in the oak parlor alone for a wonder, for neither Mary Bateman nor Kitty Sharston were present, Bertha Keys came into the room.
"The subject of the composition is to be set this afternoon," she said. "You are good at composition, are you not, Miss Aylmer?"
"No, that is it—I am very bad indeed," replied Florence.
"I am very sorry, for I believe a great deal turns on the way the themes are done. They must be very good ones."
"I must do my best," said Florence, in a gloomy voice; "there is not the least doubt that I shall beat Kitty Sharston in mathematics and arithmetic, and as to Mary Bateman, she has not a scrap of imagination in her composition."
"But the little Kitty has a great deal," said Miss Keys, in a reflective tone. "I have read some of her themes; she has a poetical mind. The programme for the great day is to be given out also this afternoon, and I believe Sir John intends to read the three Scholarship essays aloud, and the guests present are then to vote with regard to the fortunate winner. Of course, the theme will not quite decide the Scholarship, but it will go a very long way in that direction. I have seen Sir John, and I know that all his tendencies, all his feelings are in favor of Miss Sharston."
"There is little doubt on that point," replied Florence; "if it were not for Kitty Sharston this Scholarship would never have been offered. I wish it never had been offered," she continued, with a burst of confidence which she could scarcely repress. "Oh, Miss Keys, I have a great weight on my mind; I am a miserable girl."
"I see you are, but why don't you confide in me? I believe I could sympathize with you; I also believe I could help you."
"I will, I must win," said poor Florence. "Oh, I could scarcely sleep last night with thinking of my mother. I am so truly, truly glad that you were able to post that letter in time; but for your happening to go to Hilchester she would not have had it this morning. Now she must be feeling great relief."
"I can post as many more letters to your mother as you like," said Bertha Keys. "I will do anything in my power for you; I want you to believe that. I want you to believe also that I am in a position to give you serious and substantial help."
"Thank you," said Florence. She gazed into Bertha's eyes, and felt a strange thrill.
Bertha had a rare power of magnetism, and could influence almost any girl who had not sufficiently high principles to withstand her power.
She now hastily left the oak parlor to attend to her studies, and Florence sat down to begin her studies. Her head ached, and she felt restless and miserable. She envied Kitty's serene face and Mary Bateman's downright, sensible way of attacking her subjects.
"I cannot think how you keep so calm about it," she said to Mary, in the course of that morning; "suppose you lose?"
"I have thought it all out," answered Mary, "and I cannot do more than my best. If I succeed I shall be truly, truly glad. If I fail I shall be no worse off than I was before. I wish you would feel as I do about it, Florry, and not make yourself quite ill over the subject. The fact is you are not half as nice as you were last term when everyone called you Tommy."
"Oh, I know, I know," answered Florence, "but I cannot go back now. What do you think the theme for the Scholarship will be?"
"I have not the slightest idea. That theme will be Kitty's strong point; there is not the slightest doubt about that."
Florence bent again over her French exercise. She was fairly good at French, and her German was also passable, but as she read and worked and struggled through a difficult piece of translation her thoughts wandered again and again to the subject of the English theme. What would it be? History, poetry, or anything literary?
The more she thought, the less she liked the idea of this supreme test.
Dinner passed, and the moment for the reassembling of the school for afternoon work arrived. Just as all the girls were streaming into the large schoolroom, Mrs. Clavering came hurriedly forward.
"Before you begin your duties this afternoon, young ladies," she said, "I have received a communication from Sir John, and as you are all interested in the Scholarship, which may be offered another year to some further girls of Cherry Court School, I may as well say that I have just received a letter from him suggesting the theme for the essay. I will repeat to you what he has said."
Mrs. Clavering stood beside her desk and looked down the long school-room. The room contained at this moment every girl in the school, also the teachers. Florence glanced in the direction of Bertha Keys. She was standing just where a ray of light from one of the windows caught the reflection of her red hair, which surrounded her pale face like a glory. She wore it, not in the fashion of the day, but in an untidy and yet effective style. The girls of the day wore their hair neatly plaited and smooth to their heads.
One of Mrs. Clavering's special objections to Bertha was her untidy head. She often longed to ask her to get a brush and smooth out those rough locks.
Nevertheless, that very roughness of her hair gave her face a look of power, and several girls gazed at her now half fascinated. Bertha's light blue eyes flashed one glance in Florence's direction, and were then lowered. She liked best to keep her most secret thoughts to herself.
Mrs. Clavering glanced round the room, and then, opening Sir John's letter, spread it out before her.
"I will read you my friend's letter aloud," she said; "you will all clearly understand what he says." She then proceeded to read:
"MY DEAR MRS. CLAVERING: After a great deal of reflection I have resolved that the all-important essay which the lucky three are to write shall be on the following subject—Heroism. This opens up a wide field, and will test the capacities of each of the young competitors. The essay is to be written under the following conditions: It is to be the unaided work of the competitor; it is to contain not less than two thousand words and not more than two thousand five hundred. It is to be written without the aid of books of reference, and when finished is to be unsigned and put into a blank envelope. The three envelopes containing the essays are to be handed to you, who will not open them, but will place them before me on the night of the Scholarship competition.
"Further particulars with regard to the competition I will let you know in a few days, but I may as well say now that most of the examination will bevivâ voce, and will consist of eight questions relating to the study of the French language, eight questions on the study of the German tongue, eight mathematical questions, eight arithmetical questions, eight questions on English History, and eight on English Literature. In addition, a piece of music will be played by each girl and a song sung by each; but the final and most searching test of all will be the essay, which in itself will contain, I doubt not, the innermost heart of the competitor, for she cannot truly write on Heroism without understanding something of what a hero or heroine should be. Thus that innermost spirit which must guide her life will come to the front. Her spelling and English composition will be subjected to the best tests by means of those written words; her handwriting will not go without comment; her style will be noted. She can make her essay rich with reference, and thus prove the varied quality of her reading. And the grace of her diction will to a certain extent testify to her ladylike deportment and the entire breadth of her education.
"I need add no more. I have thought deeply over this matter, and trust my subject will meet with universal approval.
"Yours very truly,"JOHN WALLIS."