A Bunch of Cherries: A Story of Cherry Court School

"Poor people cannot help themselves," said the widow, in a restless voice, "but I wish you hadn't told me, Florence; it was – it was the sort of thing that your poor father would not have done; but there, you couldn't help yourself, of course."

"Then you don't think, mother, that I ought to tell Mrs. Clavering?" said Florence.

"Tell and give up your chance! No, no, no; that is the disadvantage of being so poor, one has to stoop sometimes. Your father would not have done it, but you could not help yourself. Come out, child, come out."

The mother and daughter wandered along the beach. They visited the shrimp-woman and then sat under the shade of a big rock and looked at the dancing waves, and talked of Florence's chance of winning the coming Scholarship.

By tacit consent they neither of them alluded to that shabby deed which Florence had done; they were both in their hearts of hearts uncomfortable about it, but both equally resolved to carry the thing through now.

"For it is too important," thought Mrs. Aylmer.

And Florence also thought, "It is too important, it means too much; I must take every chance of securing the Scholarship."

The two ladies returned home rather late, and there, to their astonishment, they found a telegram waiting them. It was addressed to Mrs. Aylmer. She tore it open eagerly and uttered an exclamation.

"There, Florry," she said, "read that."

Florence took the thin pink sheet and read the following words:

"Staying at Torquay. Going back to London to-morrow. Will put up at the hotel at Dawlish for one night on purpose to see Florence. – SUSAN."

"There," said the mother, "there's a chance for you, Flo; I hope you have brought a decent dress. Perhaps she will do something now that she sees you; it is a wonderful chance. Dear, dear, dear! I have not seen Susan for three or four years. She was a stylish woman in her day; perhaps she'll give me one or two of her cast-offs."

"Mother," said Florence, "we must make the best of things. You must look nice and I must look nice, and we won't plead poverty. I feel proud in the presence of Aunt Susan. I am sorry she is coming; I may as well say so frankly."

"But it's a great chance, child," said the widow; "what do you think about inviting her here to tea?"

"Nonsense, mother," replied the daughter; "she ought to invite us to tea."

"I wonder if she will. I wonder which hotel she'll go to. There is a splendid one on the beach, the 'Crown and Garter.' It would be very stylish to be seen going there, and Sukey would think a great deal more of me and also my friends, the Pratts, if they knew that we had tea'd or lunched at the 'Crown and Garter.' I hope she will ask me. But then, on the other hand, to see Susan in the cottage – she would probably drive up in a carriage and pair – I really wonder which would be best. It would have a great effect on the neighbors. I have spoken to them of my grand relations, but somehow, seeing is believing. It's wonderfully exciting – her coming, isn't it, Flo?"

But Florry had walked to the window and was looking out with a shade of disgust on her brow. The Mummy was the Mummy, but she certainly needed repression. Even if you had those sort of sentiments, if you were educated at all you would keep them to yourself.

The rest of the evening was spent in considerable excitement on the part of Mrs. Aylmer. Much as she professed to dislike her sister-in-law, Susan Aylmer, the thought of seeing her caused much more commotion than she had experienced at the thought of welcoming Florence home.

Florence was a dear old thing and her own daughter, but then she depended on Susan for her bread. Early on the following morning she was seen to put on her best and much-turned dress.

She went to the shop and even committed the great extravagance of getting a new white widow's front for her bonnet, and also a pair of new black silk gloves, and then she waited restlessly until the arrival of Mrs. Aylmer.

Mrs. Aylmer arrived in state by a train which reached Dawlish about noon, and the other Mrs. Aylmer – the poor one – and her daughter Florence watched her from afar.

"There she is," said Mrs. Aylmer the less, as she might truly be called, "there she is, Flo. She's grown stouter than ever, she promises to be a very large woman in her old age; and what a pompous way she does walk! I do declare – well, that beats everything – she is walking to the hotel, not even taking a carriage. That's just like Susan. Come, Flo, we'll go toward and speak to her; there's no good in having relations and keeping one's self in the background. Follow me, my dear, and pull yourself up and look as nice as you can. Everything depends on your aunt's first impression of you. Just push your hat straight – there, that's better; now come along."

Mrs. Aylmer and Florence pushed their way through a crowd of people who had just arrived, and a moment later Mrs. Aylmer the less and Mrs. Aylmer the great were shaking hands in greeting.

"How do you do, Mabel?" said Mrs. Aylmer the great, "and is this your daughter?" A pair of light blue eyes traveled all over Florence from the crown of her head to the sole of her foot. "I'll see you both at the hotel," said Mrs. Aylmer, in a gracious tone, "after I have had lunch. I shall want a little rest immediately after, but don't keep me waiting. I shall expect you at three o'clock."

"Come home, Flo," said Mrs. Aylmer the less. "We must not disturb you, of course, Susan, and we'll be punctual to the moment. What do you think of her, Flo?" said the widow, as soon as she and her daughter were out of sight.

"I think she looks horrid, mother, just as she always did. How well I remember going to see her shortly after poor father died, and how she used to make you cry, and how cold she always was, and what miserable tea she gave us! We had better ask her to a meal unless we want to be starved, Mummy, dear."

"I can't afford it really, Flo, and she would remark upon every luxury we had at the table. She would write to me afterwards and say, 'From the style of your meal,' etc."

"Oh, don't mother; I wish she hadn't come," said Florence. "You and I could have been quite happy and cosy alone, but now she will contrive to make us truly miserable."

"She has come for a reason," said Mrs. Aylmer, solemnly, "and it behooves you, Flo, to put your best foot foremost. I have got a nice little white jacket for you to wear this afternoon, and white becomes you very much."

"A white jacket! What sort?" said Florence.

"One that your aunt sent me two years back, and which I altered by a pattern of yours. You can wear it with that serge dress, and you will look quite cool and nice. Now then, darling, let us have our own dinner, because we must be punctual; it would never do to keep Susan waiting."

Neither of the ladies did keep Aunt Susan waiting. They arrived at the hotel, which turned out to be the "Crown and Garter," just as the great clock in the hall struck three.

Mrs. Aylmer had never been inside the "Crown and Garter," and she now looked around her with intense pleasure, and when one of the waiters came forward asked him in a pompous voice for "my sister-in-law, Mrs. Aylmer."

The man withdrew, to return in a moment or two to say that Mrs. Aylmer was in her private sitting-room, number 24, and would see the ladies immediately.

CHAPTER XI.

"I ALWAYS ADMIRED FRANKNESS."

"Hold your head up, Flo, and don't be nervous," whispered the widow, as they walked down the long corridor, the waiter going in front. He paused opposite number 24, flung the door open, and announced in a loud voice, "Mrs. Aylmer and Miss Florence Aylmer," and then shut the door behind the two ladies.

The widow walked nervously up the room and then stood confronting her sister-in-law. The elder Mrs. Aylmer had just risen from a sofa on which she had been lying. Mrs. Aylmer the less was quite right in prophesying her sister-in-law would be a large woman in the future; she was a large woman now, stoutly built and very fat about the face. Her face was pasty in complexion without a scrap of color in it, and her eyes were of too light a blue to redeem the general insipidity of her appearance; but when she spoke that insipidity vanished, for her lips were very firm, and were apt to utter incisive words, and at such moments her pale blue eyes would flash with a light fire which was full of sarcasm, and might even rise to positive cruelty.

"Sit down, Mabel," she said to Mrs. Aylmer. "Now Florence, I wish to say a few words to you. You will have tea with me, of course, Mabel, you and your daughter."

"Thank you very much indeed, Susan," said Mrs. Aylmer the less. "It will be a real treat," she added sotto voce, but loud enough for her sister-in-law to hear.

"H'm! I have tea at four o'clock," said Mrs. Aylmer the great; "I will just ring the bell and give orders; then we shall have time for a nice comfortable conversation. My dear," she added, turning to her niece, "would you oblige me by ringing that bell?"

Florence rose and did so. There was an ominous silence between the three until the waiter appeared to answer the summons.

"Three cups of tea and some thin bread and butter at four o'clock," said Mrs. Aylmer the great, in an icy tone of command.

The waiter said, "Yes, ma'am," bowed, and withdrew.

Mrs. Aylmer the less thought of the hearty tea she and Florence would make at home, the shrimps and the brown bread and butter, and the honey and the strong tea with a little cream to flavor it; nevertheless, her beady black eyes were fixed on her sister-in-law now with a look which almost signified adoration.

"Don't stare so much, Mabel," said Mrs. Aylmer; "you have not lost that unpleasant habit; you always had it from the time I first knew you, and I see your daughter has inherited it. Now then, Florence, to business."

"Yes, aunt, to business," replied Florence, very brusquely.

Mrs. Aylmer stared at her niece.

"You speak in a very free-and-easy way," she said, "considering your circumstances."

Florence colored angrily.