EDITH FRANKS.
When Florence reached home she sat down for a long time in her attic,
and did not move. She was thoroughly tired, and the slight meal she had
taken at the restaurant had by no means satisfied her appetite. After
about half an hour of anxious thought, during which she looked far older
than her years, she took off her hat, and, going to her tiny chest of
drawers, unlocked one of them and took her purse out. She carefully
counted its contents. There were twelve unbroken sovereigns in the
purse, and about two pounds' worth of silver--nearly fourteen pounds in
all.
"How fast it is going!" thought the girl. "At this rate it will not see
me through the winter, and, if those terrible people at the different
registry-offices are right, I may not get any work during the whole
winter. What shall I do? I will not go back to the little Mummy, to live
upon her and prove myself a failure. I shall not ask anybody to help me.
I must, I will fight my battle alone. Oh, this hunger! What would I not
give for a good dinner."
She took up one of the shillings, and looked at it longingly. With this
in her hand, she could go down to the restaurant and have as much food
as she required. Suddenly she made up her mind.
"I must eat well for once. I must get over this hunger. I cannot help
myself," she said to herself. "This meal must last me the greater part
of the week; to-morrow and the next day and the next I must do with a
bread-and-butter dinner; but there is Sunday to be thought of--Sunday
with that nice Mr. Trevor, Sunday with the country air all around, and
of course plenty to eat. If I can have a good dinner to-night, I can go
without another at least till Sunday."
So, hastily putting back the rest of her money, and locking her drawer,
she went downstairs to the restaurant. She went to a table where she had
sat before, and ordered her meal. She looked at the _menu_ and ordered
her dinner with extreme care. She could have anything she fancied on the
_menu_ for a shilling. A good many girls had really excellent and
nourishing meals for sixpence, but Florence was so hungry she determined
to be, as she expressed it, greedy for once. So she made her selection,
and then sat back to wait as best she could for the first of the dishes
to arrive.
A girl with a rosy face and bright dark eyes presently came and took the
seat opposite to her. She was a stranger to Florence. The waitress came
up and asked what the girl would like to have for dinner.
"Soup, please, and a chop afterwards," was the hasty reply.
The waitress went away, and the girl, taking a German book out of her
bag, opened it and began to read eagerly. She did not notice Florence,
who had no book, and was feeling in a very excited and fractious humour,
becoming feverishly anxious for her dinner. Presently Florence dropped
her napkin-ring, making a little clatter as she did so. The girl seated
opposite started, stopped, and picked it up for her.
"Thank you," said Florence.
There was something in her tone which caused the strange girl to drop
her German book and look at her attentively.
"Are you very tired?" she said.
"Tired, yes, but it does not matter," answered Florence.
"It is the hot weather," said the girl; "it is horrid being in town now.
I should not be, only--" She paused and looked full at Florence, then
she said impulsively: "You will be somewhat surprised: I am going to be
a doctor--a lady doctor. You are horrified, no doubt. Before ten years
are out there will be women doctors in England: they are much wanted."
"But can you, do they allow you to study in the men's schools?"
"Do they?" said the girl; "of course they don't. I have to go to America
to get my degree. I am working here, and shall go to New York early in
the spring. Oh, I am very busy, and deeply interested. The whole thing
is profoundly interesting, fearfully so. I am reading medical books, not
only in English, but also in French and German. Do you mind if I go on
reading until dinner arrives?"
"Of course not. Why should you stop your studies on my account?" said
Florence.
The girl again favoured her with a keen glance, and then, to Florence's
surprise, instead of continuing her reading, she immediately closed her
book and looked full across at her companion.
"Why don't you read?" said Florence, in a voice which was almost cross.
"Thank you; I have found other employment."
"Staring at me?"
"Well, yes; you interest me. You are _fearfully_ neurotic and--and
anaemic. You ought to take iron."
"Thank you," said Florence; "I don't want anything which would make me
more hungry than I am at present. Iron is supposed to promote appetite,
is it not?"
"Yes. Do you live in this house?"
"I do," answered Florence.
"I have taken a room on the third floor, No. 17. What is your number?"
"Oh, I aspire a good bit," said Florence, with the ghost of a smile;
"the number of my room is 32."
"May I come and see you?"
"No, thank you."
"What a rude girl! You certainly are _fearfully_ neurotic. Ah! here
comes--no, it's not my dinner, it is yours."
The soup Florence had ordered was placed before her. How she wished this
bright-eyed girl, with the rude manner, as she considered, would resume
her German.
"Would you like me to go on reading?" said the girl.
"You can please yourself, of course," answered Florence.
"I won't look at you, if that is what you mean; but I do wish, if I may
not come to see you, that you will come to see me. There are so few
girls at present in the house, and those who are there ought to make
friends, ought they not? See: this is my card--Edith Franks."
"And you really mean to be a doctor--a doctor?" said Florence, not
glancing at the card which her companion pushed towards her.
"It is the dearest dream of my life. I want to follow in the steps of
Mrs. Garrett Anderson; is she not noble? I thought you would be
pleased."
"I don't know that I am; it does not sound feminine," replied Florence.
She was devouring her soup, and hating Edith Franks for staring at her.
Presently Edith's own dinner arrived, and she began to eat. She ate in a
leisurely fashion, sipping her soup, and breaking her bread into small
portions. She was not very hungry; in fact, she was scarcely hungry at
all.
As Florence's own quite large meal proceeded, she began to consider
herself the greediest of the greedy.
Miss Franks sat on and chatted. She talked very well, and she had plenty
of tact, and soon Florence began to consider her rather agreeable than
the reverse. Florence had ordered five distinct dishes for her dinner,
and she ate each dish right through. Miss Franks was now even afraid to
glance in her direction.
"There is no doubt the poor soul was starving," she said to herself.
At last Florence's meal was over. The two girls left the table together.
"Come to my room, won't you, to-night? It is not seven o'clock yet. I
always have cocoa between nine and ten. Come and have a cup of cocoa
with me, will you not?"
"Thank you," said Florence; "you are very good. My name is Florence
Aylmer."
"And you are studying? What are you doing?"
"I am not studying."
"Aren't you? Then--"
"You are full of curiosity, and you want to know why I am here," said
Florence. "I am here because I want to earn my bread. I hope to get a
situation soon. I am a girl out of a situation--you know the kind." She
gave a laugh, and ran up the winding stairs to her own attic at the top
of the house, without glancing back at Edith Franks.
"Shy, poor, and half-starved," said the medical student to herself; "I
thought my work would come to me if I waited long enough. I must look
after her a little bit."
Meanwhile, the very first thing Florence found when she entered her room
was a letter, or, rather, a packet, lying on her table. She pounced upon
it, as the hungry pounce on food. Her appetite was thoroughly satisfied
at last, and her mind was just in the humour to require some diversion.
She thought that she would rather like having cocoa presently with Miss
Franks.
"She shall not patronise me; of that I am resolved," thought the proud
girl. But here was a letter--a thick, thick letter. She flung herself
into the first chair and tore it open. She glanced, a puzzled expression
on her face, at pages of closely-written matter, and then picked up a
single sheet, which had fallen from the packet. The letter was from
Bertha Keys, and ran as follows:--
"MY DEAR, GOOD, BRAVE FLO--
"I have obtained your address, no matter how, no matter why,
and I write to you. How are you getting on? You did a daring
thing when you returned you know what; but, my dear, I respect
you all the more for endeavouring to be independent. I think,
however, it is quite possible that you may have considered my
other suggestion.
"Now, Flo, I should like to see myself in print--not myself as
I am, but my words, the ideas which come through my brain. I
long to see them before the world, to hear remarks upon them.
Will you, dear Flo, read the tale which I enclose, and if you
think it any good at all take it to a publisher and see if he
will use it? You had better find an editor of a magazine, and
offer it to him. It is not more than four thousand words in
length, and it is, I think, exciting; and will you put your
name to it and publish it as your own? I don't want the world
to know Bertha Keys writes stories, but I should like the world
to know the thoughts which come into her head, and if we make a
compact between us there can be nothing wrong in it, and--but I
will add no more. Do, do, dear Flo, make use of this story. I
do not require any money for it. Make what use of it you can,
and let me know if I am to send you further MSS.
"Your aunt, Mrs. Aylmer, is a little more snappish than usual.
I have a hard time, I assure you, with her. My great friend,
Maurice Trevor, returns, I think, in a day or two. Ah,
Florence, you little know what a great, great friend he is!
"Yours affectionately,
"BERTHA KEYS."