A Bunch of Cherries: A Story of Cherry Court School

"Why not, my sweet child? If Sir John knows that I am thoroughly poor he may give me another little douceur– there's no saying."

"Oh, mother, mother, you don't know what agony this gives me!"

"My poor child, but are not you glad that your little Mummy has got some money? Dear me, Flo, I have been ill since you saw me last. I was almost at death's door, and Dr. Hunt was so kind, coming in two or three times a day. But there, I have not paid his bill yet; it is fearful to think of it! Now, I should really like to take Sir John into my confidence. I would not ask him for the money, but I should just tell him exactly how I am placed, with so much a year – very, very little; a scrimped, tightened widow: that's the only way in which I can express my condition, scrimped and tightened, nothing else. A generous cheque from him would set all right."

"Mother, you must promise me here and now that you will say nothing on the subject to Sir John. And, Mummy dear, that reminds me, you never acknowledged my postoffice orders. I know I hadn't much to send you, but what I did have I sent, and I promised that you should have ten shillings a week, my pocket-money, until you had paid the doctor's bill. I could do no more. Mummy dear, what is the matter? Why do you look at me like that, Mummy?"

"I may well ask you what is the matter?" said Mrs. Aylmer, now standing stock still in front of her daughter and raising a round, agitated face to Florence. "Postoffice orders, and from you, Flo! Oh, my dear, darling, precious child, I have been wondering at never hearing from you. I wrote to tell you all about my illness – not until it was over, Flo; as I said to myself, 'No, the child shall not be disturbed; that Scholarship she must win. I will not tell her that her mother is ill until her mother is out of danger.' But when the danger was past I told you – oh, my darling, I have not had any postoffice orders from you nor any letters whatsoever – none whatsoever, Flo, and I have been so astonished. I have tried not to feel hurt. I am very sensible about most things. I was sure that you did not write because you were too busy to write, but still, in the dead of night, I did shed one or two tears – I did really, my own pet."

"But, mother, this is too extraordinary for anything. I sent you two postoffice orders, the first was for two pounds, the second for one. Do you mean to say that you never got them?"

"Never, my darling; I have been robbed. Who could have done it? Oh, Flo, this is fearful; three pounds sent to me by my own darling, and I never to receive the money! What can it mean, Florence – what can it mean?"

"Say no more, mother; I will see about this."

CHAPTER SIX.

TIT FOR TAT

The long, bewildering, beautiful day was over and the three candidates for the coming competition were being dressed for the occasion.

The dressing took place in one immense room where the girls were afterwards to sleep, and the assistants at the dressing were no less people than Miss Helen Dartmoor, Mrs. Aylmer the great, and Mrs. Aylmer the less.

Mrs. Aylmer the great and Mrs. Aylmer the less fussed round Florence, fussed round her to such an extraordinary degree that she felt a mad desire to thrust them both out of the room.

The very beautiful dress which Aunt Susan had purchased for Florence in London was, after all, not to be used on this occasion, for Sir John had given forth his mandate that each of the three candidates was to be dressed exactly alike, and as this was his supreme wish he further said that he himself would purchase the dresses for the occasion.

These were made in Greek style, and were long, flowing, and simple. The material was the finest white cashmere edged with swansdown, and each girl had clasped round her waist a belt of massive silver, also Sir John's present. Their hair was unbound and hung down their backs, being kept in its place on the head by a narrow fillet of silver.

Nothing could be simpler and yet more graceful than the dress, the long flowing sleeves falling away from the elbow and showing the young molded arms distinctly.

It so happened that no dress could suit Kitty better, and doubtless Sir John had an eye to the appearance of his favorite in such a robe when he ordered it.

Florence also looked very well in her Greek costume; and even Mary Bateman seemed to acquire added grace and dignity when she put on the pretty classical robe. The girls wore sandals on their feet, and altogether nothing could be choicer and prettier than the dresses which Sir John had devised for them.

Little Mrs. Aylmer almost hopped round Florence as she was being attired in her festive robe.

"I am sure," she said, "I can guess the reason why; I have been wondering over it all day, and at last the solution has come to me. Listen, my dear Miss Bateman; listen, Miss Sharston; Susan, you cannot prevent my speaking. I see, Miss Dartmoor, you are thinking me a little fool, but I have guessed at the solution. It is because in the moment of triumph the brow of the young victor – victress, don't you say? no, of course, victor – will be crowned with a laurel wreath. Ah, how sweet! Florence dear, nothing could be more becoming to you."

Miss Dartmoor was heard to give an indignant snort. She went up to Kitty and looked at her with marked attention.

"I hate the heathenish sort of dress," she exclaimed, "but if it comes to that, I believe that Catherine Sharston will look just as well with a chaplet of leaves round her head as anyone else in the room."

"Oh, we are not disputing that point," said Mrs. Aylmer the less, chirruping away as she spoke, and dancing up to a neighboring looking-glass to take a side view of her own dress; "we are not disputing that point. The one who wins the Scholarship will look beautiful in her wreath of glory. Time will prove who that lucky person will be."

Here she winked at Florence, who turned away.

Her head ached; there was a heavy, heavy feeling at her heart. She had one great desire, which for the time being swallowed up all others, and that was to see Bertha Keys for a moment alone. Bertha was to arrive with the rest of the school in time for the great ceremony, which was to take place in the great central hall of the old house.

The hall had been decorated for the occasion, and in its dark recesses gleamed now many fairy lamps. In the middle of the hall was a dais, on which the judges were to sit, and before whom the young competitors were to appear when the crucial moment came.

A flood of light from many incandescent burners poured down upon this dais, making it one of dazzling light.

The rest of the girls of the school were to sit in a darker part of the hall; they were to be dressed in their best. The guests were to occupy a gallery to the left, except those guests who, by Sir John's special invitation, were to sit upon the dais and give their votes in favor of the essays. Desks were provided also in the middle of the hall for the three young competitors, at which they were to sit to answer the questions which were to be asked them by three professors specially sent for from London by Sir John.

There was not to be the slightest indication of who the successful winner was to be until the crucial moment, and the examination from first to last was expected to occupy about an hour and a half.

While it was going on very soft music was to be played on a distant organ; the competitors were then to go forward and to stand in front of the judges while the three essays were read aloud by no less a person than Sir John himself.

The judges would retire, something like a jury at a court of justice, on hearing the essays, to give their votes for the lucky winner of the Scholarship, and then Sir John was to crown the successful girl with glory. A chaplet of silver bay-leaves was to encircle her brow, and the locket and chain were to be put round her neck. She was to receive the purse which would contain the expenses for one year at Cherry Court School, and the parchment scroll, which through all time would testify to her ability and her triumph, was to be put into her hand.

"Yes, nothing could be more perfect than the arrangements," said Miss Dartmoor, who had heard all about the programme during the course of the day; "but," she added, fixing her eyes now upon the elder Mrs. Aylmer's face, "I disapprove of this sort of thing immensely. I don't suppose for a single moment my cousin, Catherine Sharston, will get the Scholarship; but seeds of envy and discontent will be sown in her heart, and I shall have some trouble in bringing her into a proper frame of mind when she joins me in Scotland."

"I pity you," said Mrs. Aylmer, in reply to this speech, "but the girl looks well-meaning and easily influenced."

"Oh, am I?" thought Kitty, who overheard these words and who could not help giving her little head a toss; "I doubt it. Oh, if it were not for father I don't think I could go through with this evening."

Meanwhile Florence had slipped out of the room. In her pretty Greek dress she glided down the corridor, met a servant, and asked her if the young ladies from school had yet come.

"Yes, miss," was the reply, "and they are all unrobing in the green bedroom at the end of this corridor."

"I should be so much obliged if you would do something for me," said Florence.

"Of course I will, miss," was the reply. The girl gave Florence a long, admiring look. She could not help being struck with the elegant dress and the eager, passionate, quivering face. "What is it you want, miss? – I'll do anything you wish."

"I want you to go into the green bedroom and ask if Miss Keys is there. If she is, say that I, Florence Aylmer, would like to see her for a few moments."

The servant tripped off at once, and a moment later Bertha joined Florence in the corridor.

"Is there anywhere where we can be alone?" said Florence, clasping Bertha's hand.

"Oh, my dear Flo, how lovely you look! What a charming, charming robe!"

"Don't talk about my dress now, and don't say anything about my looks; I want to speak to you," said Florence.

For a wild moment Bertha Keys felt inclined to say, "It is impossible; I am engaged with my pupils, and cannot give you any of my time," but a glance into Florence's face showed her, as she vulgarly expressed it, "the fat was in the fire," and she had better face the position at once. Accordingly she said coolly, "I can give you two or three minutes, although I cannot imagine what you want to say now. I shall come to see you when it is all over. There is not the slightest doubt that you will win the Scholarship, so rest assured on that head."

"If I thought for a moment there was a doubt do you think I would have acted as I did?" said Florence; "but now that things have come to a crisis I wonder if I greatly care. I – "

"Oh, nonsense, Florence, how would you stand the disgrace? and the clergy school, you know – don't forget, Florence, what it means. Hold up your head, pluck up your courage. What is it you want to say to me?"

"Something – but I must see you alone."

"Let us come along this corridor; there are a great many bedrooms: we will open one on the chance of its being empty."

Bertha seized Florence's hand and began to fly down the corridor with her. She knocked at a door, there was no reply, she opened it.

"There, it is unoccupied," she said; "we will stay here for a minute or two. Come now, what is it?"