A Bunch of Cherries: A Story of Cherry Court School

"It is this," said Florence; she turned and faced Bertha.

"Bertha Keys," she said, "my mother has told me, and I heard that of you this morning which – "

"That of me, indeed," said Bertha, turning very pale; "what can you have heard of me?"

"I have heard that which shows me your true character. My mother never received those post-office orders. I gave you three sovereigns to change into postoffice orders for my mother, and she – she never had them; she never got any of my letters, she thought me cold, heartless, unfeeling – she, my mother, the one I love best in the world. You, you held back the letters, you kept the money – dare you deny it?"

"Oh, dear, what a fuss!" said Bertha. "But you can act just as you please, Florence; you can go down and tell all about me. Of course, having done so, my career will be ruined."

"What do you mean? What did you do? – speak, speak! Oh, this is driving me mad!"

"Calm yourself, my dear, and stay quiet; I won't attempt to conceal the truth from you. I took the money; I wanted it very badly. Whether I wanted it more badly than your mother is a matter of not the smallest importance to me. I wanted it, and I took it. Let that suffice."

"And what do you think I shall do; do you think I will submit to this sort of thing?"

"You can please yourself. Of course, if you tell about me, I can tell about you. Tit for tat – you quite understand."

"Oh, I quite understand," said Florence.

She sank down on the nearest chair, her face had turned quite grey.

Miss Keys regarded her for a moment silently, then she went up and laid her hand on her shoulder.

"Come, Flo," she said, suddenly dropping on her knees by the unhappy girl's side, "come, cheer up; don't look so miserable. You and I are in the same boat and we must sink or swim together. If you support me I'll support you. I can help you again and again, and think what I am doing for you to-night."

"Oh, I hate myself, I hate myself! I don't think I can go through with it," said Florence.

"Then what do you mean to do?"

"Tell Sir John all before he begins. It is Kitty's Scholarship – not mine; and how – how am I to take it?"

"Now this is utter folly," said Bertha, seriously alarmed at last, for if Florence were to develop a conscience, and a conscience of such a sensitive order, at this hour, all would indeed be lost as far as she was concerned.

"Come," she said, "think what it means. You love your mother; think of her position if you lose; and it was only three pounds, and I promise – there, I promise I'll save it out of my salary; you shall have it back. Oh, don't tell on me; I shall be ruined for ever; don't – don't – don't!"

Bertha clasped her hands, the tears rose to her eyes – a bell was heard in the distance. It was the bell which was to summon the guests, the girls of the school, and the three competitors to the great hall.

"There, I must be going," said Florence, "but I am miserable. My head aches, I doubt if I can go through with this."

"You will feel quite different when you get downstairs," said Bertha, "and now cheer up; only just remember one thing. If you fail me I will fail you, and vice versa."

Florence did not dare to look back at Bertha; she left the room. There was a noise in her ears and a swimming before her eyes.

Bertha stood for a moment, looking after her retreating form.

"I am almost sorry I did not tell her at the time," she said to herself; "when she has accepted the Scholarship I shall be safe; but she has had a shock. There is no saying what a girl of that temperament may do under pressure; but there, I believe the excitement will carry her through, and I don't believe for a moment she has the moral courage to stand the public disgrace which would be hers if she told now. Yes, she is in for it; she must go through with it."

Bertha patted her red hair and drew herself up to her full height, and presently accompanied the pupils down to the great hall, where they took their seats in the places allotted to them; excellent seats from the point of view, for they could see every single thing and were themselves to a certain extent in shadow.

The different guests had assembled, all beautifully dressed. Mrs. Aylmer the great and Mrs. Aylmer the less found themselves side by side. Mrs. Aylmer the great was in a magnificent robe of violet brocade, open at the throat, displaying a quantity of rich lace. On her head glittered diamonds, and her light eyes flashed as she glanced from time to time at Mrs. Aylmer the less.

"Really," she said to herself, "the one drawback in adopting Florence is that most unpleasant little woman. Where did she get that splendid silk from? But what airs she does put on; how vulgar she is!"

Mrs. Aylmer the great did not look particularly happy. She was most anxious to force herself into what she termed county society, and she found up to the present that, although she was the owner of a magnificent place like Aylmer Court, she was not taken much notice of by those people who were, as she expressed it, really in the swim. It was a great feather in her cap to be invited to Cherry Court Park, and if Sir John would only favor her with a little attention she might get more invitations in consequence.

If her niece was the lucky winner of the Scholarship all would undoubtedly go well with Mrs. Aylmer. She would be the aunt, practically the adopted mother, of the heroine, the girl on whom all eyes were fixed, Sir John's special protégée, the Cherry Court School Scholarship girl. She could talk about Florence and her great abilities from time to time, and gently insinuate little hints with regard to the girl's unfortunate position and her great kindness in adopting her. Thus people would think her a most good-natured woman as well as a very rich one, the aunt of a girl of undoubted genius – yes, a great deal might follow in the train of such consequences.

Mrs. Aylmer the less on this occasion had many wild and exciting thoughts with regard to Miss Pratt and the other neighbors at Dawlish, also with regard to Sukey; but still, her thought above all other thoughts was the consciousness that soon her beloved child would be done honor to, and her eyes, silly enough in expression, were now so full of love that many people thought her a good-natured and pleasant-looking woman, and in reality gave her far kinder thoughts than they did to Mrs. Aylmer the great, whose cold face would never shine with any human feeling, and whose motives could be easily read by the proud county folk.

As Florence slowly entered the room, accompanied by Kitty and Mary, a little buzz of applause greeted the three graceful girls as, in their Greek costumes, they glided slowly forward and took their places at the little desks placed for them. Florence for one wild moment glanced at her mother, and the love and longing and delight in the little Mummy's face did more to reconcile her present evil plight than anything else.

"There," she whispered under her breath, "in for a penny, in for a pound. I cannot break the heart of the little Mummy – I can't – I won't."

A peculiar expression stole round her lips, her eyes grew feverishly bright, she looked handsome, and Mrs. Aylmer the great felt justly very proud of her.

"She is tall, her figure is improving every day; she will be a very good-looking girl by and by – what is more, a stylish one," thought Aunt Susan.

But most of the guests scarcely looked at Florence, for their eyes were attracted by the sweet expression, the inimitable grace of Kitty Sharston.

Florence's cheeks were deeply flushed, her eyes so bright that they looked dark as night; but Kitty, equally excited, her heart beating, every nerve highly strung, only showed her excitement by a dewy look in the great big grey eyes, and a wild-rose bloom on the delicate cheeks.

Mary's downright appearance did not attract comment one way or the other. All three were pronounced nice-looking, ladylike girls, and now the guests bent forward to listen to the viva voce examination, which immediately began.

CHAPTER XX.

"THE HILLS FOR EVER."

The examination began and was continued amidst a profound silence on the part of all the spectators. Necks were craned forward and ears were at attention point. When Florence answered a question correctly Mrs. Aylmer the less nodded her little head until the plumes which she wore in her hair quivered all over. Mrs. Aylmer the great bridled and glanced with her cold eyes at the proudest of the county folk, as much as to say, "There's genius for you."

Mary Bateman's father, who sat very near Mrs. Aylmer the less, smiled also when Florence made a correct answer, and looked with sympathy at little Mrs. Aylmer; and when his own child Mary scored a point, as he expressed it, a gratified flush rose to his old cheeks, and he dropped his eyes, not caring to look at the girl whom he loved best in the world.

But when to question after question Kitty Sharston gave a correct reply, the furore and excitement in the breasts of several of the spectators rose to the highest pitch, for Kitty's soft voice, her gentle answers, her correct and lady-like utterances impressed everyone favorably. Then, too, it was an open secret that she was Sir John's favorite; it had been whispered by more than one visitor to another that it was on account of Kitty Sharston that this great fuss had been made, that the Scholarship had been opened to the competition of the school, that the girls were here, that they themselves were here – it was all on account of this slim little girl with the big eyes and the sweet pathetic face; and reminiscences of Sir John and Kitty's father together side by side, shoulder to shoulder, in the trenches before Sebastopol arose in the memory of one or two visitors present.

It was undoubtedly the wish of the guests who were assembled at Cherry Court Park that night that Kitty should be the successful winner. And now there were strong, more than strong hopes that such would be the case, for although Florence's answers were full of spirit and invariably correct, there seemed to those who listened to be a background of substantial knowledge behind Kitty's grave remarks.

Miss Helen Dartmoor sat bolt upright, her lips firmly compressed, and a disapproving expression in her eyes; but Miss Helen Dartmoor did not count. It was Sir John, whose eyes followed his favorite with keener and keener appreciation and admiration; it was Mrs. Clavering; it was also most of the girls themselves, for beyond doubt Kitty was the favorite. If she won the Scholarship it would give universal satisfaction.

And now most of the examination had come to an end. The questions on history had all been answered and duly marked by the patient professors who had come to Cherry Court Park for the great occasion. The girls one by one had approached the piano and played each her trial piece and had sung her trial song, and still it seemed to everyone that Kitty led the van; for her music, although not quite so showy and brilliant as Florence's, was marked with true musical expression, and her song, a sweet old English ballad, came purely and freely from her young lips.

Mary also acquitted herself extremely well in the musical examination, and old Mr. Bateman raised his head and listened with real pleasure as the wild warbling notes of "Annie Laurie" sounded through the old hall.

But at last the supreme test of all arrived. The three girls, Sir John leading the way, approached the central dais. There they stood side by side, their soft Greek draperies falling round their slim young figures. Sir John then stepped to the front and addressed the crowd of eager spectators.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "I need not tell you with what intense pleasure I have listened to the spirited answers our three young friends have made to the different questions put to them. The Scholarship, however, has yet to be won – the supreme test is now to be given – the trial essays are now to be read. In order that fair play should above all things be exercised on this important occasion, I have asked my three young friends not to sign their names to the essays they have written. The essays are in three blank envelopes, which now lie before me on the table." Here Sir John touched three envelopes with his hand. "I will proceed to read them aloud, taking them up haphazard, and having no idea myself who the writer of each essay is. I have selected as the subject of the test essay the great and wonderful subject of Heroism, for I feel that such a theme will give scope for the real mind, the real heart, the real soul of the young writer. I will say no more now. After I have read the essays we will retire into the outer hall for two or three minutes, and on our return I shall have the pleasure of declaring on whose head I am to place the crown of bay-leaves."

Sir John paused for a moment, the girls stood close together, they faced the crowd standing at one side of the dais. Florence glanced across the hall. Once again she met her mother's eyes – she saw no one in that intense moment of her young life except the little Mummy, and the love in her mother's eyes once again made her say to herself, "Nothing, nothing, nothing will make me break her heart; I will go through with it – yes, I will go through with it."

Kitty Sharston's clear eyes also gazed across the hall, but she saw no one present – only, far, far away, a lonely man with an iron-grey head, and a face which was the dearest face in all the world to her. She saw this man, and felt that for his sake no effort could be too great. If she won the Scholarship all would indeed be well; but if she failed she could at least be good, she could at least submit. Oh, yes; oh, yes; it would be fearfully hard, but God could give her strength.