THE PUPIL TEACHER.
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 be _vivâ 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."