A Bunch of Cherries Part 10

Florence's eyes fell and a discontented look crossed her face. "How can I look decent in these clothes?" she said; "but there, never mind, you can't give me better, can you?"

"I, darling! How could I? I have not fifty pounds a year when all is told, and I cannot do more with my money. It's your Aunt Susan who is to blame, Florence, and she is worse than ever. I'll tell you all about her to-morrow; we won't worry to-night, will we?"

"No; let us think of only pleasant things to-night," said Florence.

"Well, come down on the beach, Flo. I am all agog to hear your news.

What is this about the Scholarship?"

"Oh, Mummy, need we talk of this either to-night?" said Florence, frowning.

"Well, yes, I should like it," said Mrs. Aylmer; "you see, you know all about it, and I don't. You told me so little in your letter. You don't write half as long letters as you used to, Flo. I wish you would, for I have nothing else to divert me. I have turned and re-turned my best dress--I turned it upside down last year, and downside up this year, and back to front and front to back, and I am tr.i.m.m.i.n.g it now with frills which I have cut another old skirt up to make, and I really cannot do anything more with it. It won't by stylish, try as I will, and your Aunt Susan hasn't sent me a cast-off of hers for the last two years. It's very stingy of her, very stingy indeed. She sells her clothes now to a dealer in London who buys up all sorts of wardrobes. Before she found out this wardrobe-dealer I used to get her cast-offs and managed quite nicely. It's horrid of her. She is a very unamiable character. Don't you ever take after her, Florry, be sure you don't."

"I hate her quite as cordially as you do, mother; but now come along by the sh.o.r.e and I'll tell you about the Scholarship, if you really wish to know."

Which Florence did, with one arm clasped tightly round her mother's waist, and Mrs. Aylmer almost danced by her daughter's side as she listened, and tried to fancy herself nearly as young as Florence, and was certainly quite as eager with regard to the winning of the great Scholarship.

"You must get it," she said at last, after a pause; "it would make the most tremendous, tremendous difference."

"Well, I mean to try," said Florence.

"And if you try, dear, you will succeed. You're a very clever girl, ain't you?"

"Don't say 'ain't,' mother; it is not quite----"

"Oh, don't you go to correct me, my love. I can't help having the rather rough ways of people with small means; but you are clever, aren't you?"

"I believe I am in some things. There are some things again which I never can get into my head, try as I will. I am a queer mixture."

"You are a darling old thing," said the mother, giving her arm an affectionate squeeze.

"And you are the sweetest pet in the world," said Florence, glancing down at her parent. "Oh, it is good to be with you, Mummy, again."

"Well, darling, you'll get the prize, there's nothing to prevent it."

"There are several things to prevent it," said Florence, in a gloomy voice.

"What, my dear, darling pet--what?"

"Well, for instance, there are two other girls."

"Oh, girls," said Mrs. Aylmer, in a contemptuous voice. "I am not going to be frightened by girls. My Florence is equal to the best girl that ever breathed."

"Yes, but mother, you cannot quite understand. There's Kitty Sharston, for instance."

"Kitty Sharston," said Mrs. Aylmer; "what about her?"

"Well, she is really clever, and everyone seems to wish her to win."

"I call that shocking unfair," said Mrs. Aylmer.

"It is, mother, but we cannot get over the fact. She is a favorite with the school, and I must own she is a jolly girl. Now, what do you think she did for me?"

"What, my darling?"

"You know the Cherry Feast?"

"Of course I do--have not you described it to me so often? You would make a wonderful writer, I believe, you would make a lot of money writing stories, Florence."

"No, I wouldn't, Mummy, not really. It takes a good deal to be a good story-writer."

"Well, go on, pet, I am all agog to hear."

So Florence related also the story of the cherry ribbons.

"Wasn't it like Aunt Susan?" she said.

"Just," exclaimed the mother; "the stingiest old cat in existence."

"And wasn't it nice of Kitty, and didn't she do it well?" said Florence. "Oh, she is a splendid girl, and I ought not to hate her."

"But you do hate her?"

"I am afraid I do sometimes."

"And I'm not a bit surprised, dear, coming between you and this great chance. But, oh, Florry, you must win, it is all-important; I'll tell you why to-morrow. There is a letter from your Aunt Susan which will take some of the pleasure out of this little visit, but it makes the Scholarship absolutely essential. I'll tell you all about it to-morrow."

CHAPTER X.

AUNT SUSAN.

Florence slept soundly that night, and awoke the next morning in the highest of spirits and the best of health.

"It is wonderful, Mummy," she said, "how you and I can squeeze into this camp bed, but there, I never moved all night; it was delicious to have you so close to me. I cannot understand why I love you as I do, for you are a very plain, ordinary sort of woman."

"I never was anything else," replied Mrs. Aylmer, by no means offended by Florence's frank remarks. "Your poor father always said, 'It's your heart, not your face, that has won me, Mabel.' Your poor father had a great deal of pretty sentiment about him, but I am matter-of-fact to the backbone. There, child, jump up now and get dressed, and I'll go down and prepare the breakfast. Sukey is rather cross this morning, and I always make the coffee myself."

Mrs. Aylmer bustled out of the room, and Florence slowly rose and dressed.

"I wonder what mother would think of me," she said to herself, "if she knew how I really secured my present position as one of the lucky three; I wonder what mother would think about it. Would she be terribly shocked? I doubt if the little Mummy has the highest principles in the world; in fact, I don't doubt, for I am quite certain that the Mummy's principles are a little lax, but there, she is the Mummy, and I love her. What a queer thing love is, for Mummy is not the highest-souled woman, nor the most beautiful in the world. Still, she is the Mummy, and I love her."

So Florence finished dressing and ran downstairs, and enjoyed a hearty breakfast of brown bread and b.u.t.ter, honey, and delicious coffee.

"I can't do much for you in the meat line, my dear," said her parent.

"I don't indulge in meat more than once a week myself, but we'll take it out in fish. Fish is cheap and plentiful in Dawlish, and we can get dear little crabs for fourpence apiece."