FLORENCE.
It began to be whispered in the school--at first, it is true, in very
low tones and scarcely any words, but just a nod and a single
glance--that Mrs. Clavering was very anxious that Kitty should win the
Scholarship.
There was really no reason for this rumor to get afloat, but beyond
doubt the rumor was afloat, was in the air, and was talked of by the
girls--at first, as I have said, scarcely at all, but by and by more
and more plainly as the hours flew on towards the Cherry Feast.
Kitty herself knew nothing of these whispers. She was very busy
planning and reconstructing all her previous ideas with regard to
education. Her first object was to come out one of the happy three who
were to compete for the Scholarship in the coming October. If she
succeeded in this she felt sure that all would be well. She began now
eagerly to examine her companion's faces. Sometimes they turned away
from her bright, almost too bright, eyes, but then again they would
look at her with a certain compassion.
It would be very nice, they all thought, to win the Scholarship--there
was no girl at Cherry Court School who would not feel proud to get so
great a prize--but they also knew that what would be merely nice for
them was life or death for poor Kitty Sharston, and yet nothing had
been told them; they only surmised that there was a wish in Mrs.
Clavering's breast that Kitty should be the lucky girl.
On a certain afternoon about a week before the Cherry Feast, Mabel and
Alice Cunningham, with Florence Aylmer and Edith King, were once more
assembled under one of the cherry trees in the cherry orchard.
"I am sure of it," said Alice. "Of course, it is nothing that I have
heard, but it is a sort of look in Mrs. Clavering's face, and she is so
eager to give Kitty all sorts of help. She has her by herself now
every evening to coach her for an hour."
"Well, for my part, I don't call it a bit fair," said Florence Aylmer.
"Florry! Oh, surely you are not jealous, and of poor little Kitty?"
"I am not exactly jealous--oh, no, I am not jealous," said Florence,
"but it rather takes the heart out of one. If after all one's trouble
and toil and exertion one gets the thing and then Mrs. Clavering is
discontented and Kitty Sharston's heart is broken, I don't see the use
of having a big fight--do you, Mabel? do you, Edith?"
"Oh, I don't know," said Edith; "I only feel puzzled; perhaps it is a
mere suspicion and there is no truth in it."
"I cannot imagine, if it is really Sir John's wish that Kitty should be
the successful competitor, why he does not give her the money straight
away and end the thing," said Florence again.
"But, you see, he could not do that," said Mabel, "for Kitty is very
proud and----"
"Well, I don't like it," said Florence, "and I tell you what it is--now
that the whisper has got into the air, I mean to know. I shall go
straight to Mrs. Clavering and ask her. If it is true I for one will
not enter the lists at all."
"But would you dare to ask her?" exclaimed Mabel, in a voice almost of
awe. "You know, Mrs. Clavering, although she is the kindest woman in
the world, never allows any liberties to be taken with her. I don't
think you can dare to ask her, Florry--I really don't."
"Oh, I shall, all the same," replied Florence. "If this thing is fair
and above board, and equal chances are given to us all, why, I shall go
in for it and be delighted to have a chance, but if it is not, Kitty
shall have it without much exertion, as far as I am concerned."
She got up restlessly as she spoke, and moved towards the house.
The day was a very hot one, and all the doors and windows stood wide
open. Sir John Wallis was standing inside the porch talking to Mrs.
Clavering.
Florence came slowly forward. Sir John held out his hand to her.
"Well, Miss Aylmer," he said, in his pleasant voice, "and how do the
studies get on, and are you all agog to be one of the lucky three?"
"I am not at all sure about that," said Florence; "I was coming to you,
Mrs. Clavering, to speak about it."
"Why, what can be wrong?" said the baronet; "I thought that you were
one of the most promising pupils and had a very good chance."
"But what," said Florence, her face suddenly blazing into color, and
her eyes fixing themselves first on Sir John's face and then on that of
Mrs. Clavering, "what if you don't want me to win the prize!"
"Don't want you--what nonsense!" said Mrs. Clavering, but she colored
faintly as she spoke.
Sir John gave Florence a very keen glance.
"I may as well speak out now that I am about it," continued the girl.
"There is a rumor in the school--I cannot tell you who started it, but
there is a rumor--that you, Sir John, want Kitty to get the prize."
"It is perfectly true that I should like her to get it," said Sir John,
instantly, "but the prize shall be bestowed upon the girl who comes out
best in deportment, best in conduct, and best in learning, whether she
is Kitty Sharston or another. Now, that is all, Florence Aylmer. I
have spoken. Don't, I beg of you, say a word of what you have just
said to me to Kitty herself. You have all equal chances. If Kitty
fails she fails. I shall be disappointed, but I shall honor the girl
who wins the great prize all the same."
"Thank you," replied Florence. She entered the hall; a moment later
Mrs. Clavering followed her.
"My dear," she said, "what is wrong with you? I would not know you
with that expression on your face."
"Things seem very hard," said Florence. "At first, when the prize was
mentioned, it seemed quite too delicious, for you know, dear Mrs.
Clavering, that I am poor, too, and if I were to win the prize it would
be only too delightful; but if you do not wish me to take it"--tears
filled her eyes; one of them rolled down her cheeks.
"I do heartily wish you to have it if you really win it, Florence. The
competition is an open one, rest assured of that; and now, my dear,
cease to think unkind thoughts of Kitty, and, above all things, don't
breathe a word of what you have just said to me to her."
"That I promise," said Florence, but she went upstairs feeling
discontented and depressed.
She sat down to write a letter to her mother.
"Dear mother," she wrote, "we are trying for an extraordinary prize
here, quite a valuable Scholarship, such as are given to men at the
Universities, and I am going to have a big try for it, but I should
like to talk things over with you. I wonder if Aunt Susan would rise
to the occasion, and let me have a third-class return ticket to
Dawlish, and if you, Mummy, could secure a tiny room for me next
yourself. I want to spend a week with you during the coming holidays.
I have a good deal to say and am rather anxious and miserable. Try and
arrange it with Aunt Susan. It won't cost very much really, and I
promise to return at the end of a week.
"Your loving daughter,
"FLORENCE."
"P. S.--I shall eat very little and be satisfied with the plainest
food. You might mention that to Aunt Susan when you are writing."
"P. S. 2.--There is a new girl at the school; she came just at the
beginning of term, but I never mentioned her name to you before. She
is called Kitty Sharston, and I think she has a very great chance of
winning the Scholarship. She is rather an awkward kind of girl, but
will be handsome by and by. She is a great friend of Sir John Wallis,
the man who is the patron of the school, and who is giving the
Scholarship. I mean to have a good try for the Scholarship, Mummy,
dear. Be sure you say so to Aunt Susan when you ask her for my
third-class fare to Dawlish. Good-bye again, Mummy dear.
FLORENCE."
Having written this letter Florence uttered a sigh of relief, put it
into its envelope, addressed it, stamped it, and ran downstairs to put
it in the school letter-box. Just as she was in the act of doing so
the chaise drew up at the front door, a tall soldierly man got out, he
came into the porch, and just as he was about to ring the bell, his
eyes met those of Florence.
"This is Cherry Court School, is it not?" he said, taking off his hat
to the girl.
"Yes," replied Florence; "can I do anything for you, sir?"
"My name is Major Sharston. I have come to see my daughter; can you
tell me where I shall find her?"
"Are you indeed Kitty's father?" said Florence, her heart now shining
out of her eyes. She had beautiful eyes, dark grey with very long,
black lashes. Her face, which was somewhat pale, was quite quivering
with emotion.
"Yes, I am Kitty's father," was the reply. "Shall I go into the house,
and will you be kind enough to tell her that I am here; or perhaps,"
added the Major, looking as wistful as Florence herself, "you might
take me to her straight away?"
"I will take you to her straight away, that's just it," said Florence.
She turned back to drop her letter into the school letter-box, and then
conducted the Major across the lawn and into the outer garden. In this
garden every old-fashioned flower imaginable bloomed and thrived, and
reared its graceful head. The Major walked down through great lines of
tall hollyhocks and peonies of every color and description. Then he
passed under a sweet-briar hedge and then along a further hedge of
Scotch roses, red and white; and the scent from mignonette and sweet
peas and the sweet-briar and the roses came up to his nostrils. Never
to the longest day of his life did the Major forget the sweet scent of
the old-fashioned garden and the pain at his heart all the time, for he
was going to see Kitty, to bid her good-bye for years--perhaps, who
could tell? for ever.
Florence seemed to guess some of his feelings, though she did not know
the actual story, for Kitty was very reserved and kept her troubles to
herself. The Major made no remark about the garden, which in itself
was somewhat curious, for strangers were always in raptures over this
old-world garden, with its yew-trees cut in quaint shapes, and its high
walls, and its flowers, which seemed, every one of them, to belong to
the past.
At last the Major and Florence reached the postern-gate which opened
into the cherry orchard, and then Florence stood still and raised her
voice and called, "Kitty! Kitty Sharston!" and there came an answering
call, clear and high as a bird's, and the next instant Kitty, in her
white summer dress, was seen emerging from under the cherry-trees. She
saw her father, uttered a cry half of rapture, half of pain, and the
next instant was clasped in his arms. Florence saw the Major's arms
fold around Kitty, and a queer lump rose in her throat and she went
away all by herself. Somehow, at that moment she felt that she shared
Mrs. Clavering's wish that Kitty Sharston should get the prize.
"Although it means a great deal to me, a great deal more than anyone
can guess," thought Florry to herself, "for Aunt Susan is never very
kind to the dear little mother, and she makes such a compliment of
giving her that money term after term, and she insists on doing
everything in the very cheapest way. Why will she not," continued
Florence, looking down at her dress as she spoke, "why will she not
give me decent clothes like other girls! I never have anything pretty.
It is brown holland all during the summer, the coarsest brown holland,
and it is the coarsest blue serge during the winter; never, never
anything else--no style, no fashion, no pretty ribbons, not even a
cherry ribbon for my hair, and so little pocket-money, oh! so
little--only a penny a week. What can a girl do with a penny a week?
Of course, she does allow me a few stamps, just a very few, to send
Mummy letters, but she does keep me so terribly close. Sometimes I can
scarcely bear the life. Oh, what a difference the Scholarship would
make, and Sir John Wallis would think a great deal of me, and so would
Mrs. Clavering. Why, I should be the show girl of the school, the
Cherry Court Scholarship girl; it would be splendid, quite splendid!
But then Kitty, poor Kitty, and what a look the Major had on his face!
I wonder what can be wrong? Oh dear! oh, dear! my heart is torn in
two. Why do I long beyond all words to win the prize, and why, why do
I hate taking it from Kitty Sharston?"