A Bunch of Cherries Part 13

"I don't know that," replied Florence, in a sulky tone. "Where is the good," she said to herself, "of trying to please this horrid Aunt Susan, and I quite hate Mummy to fawn on her the way she is doing. I at least cannot stoop to it. No; and I will not."

"You have not profited by your time at school," replied Mrs. Aylmer the great; "what do you mean?"

"I have done my best, of course," replied Florence, "but I am quite a young girl still, only just fifteen. Girls of fifteen are not educated, are they, Aunt Susan? Were you educated when you were fifteen?"

"Oh, Flo, Flo," said the mother, in a voice of agony; "pray do forgive her, Susan."

"I wish you wouldn't interrupt, Mabel," said Mrs. Aylmer, lying back in her luxurious chair as she spoke, and folding her fat hands across her lap. "I like Florence to speak out. I hate people to fawn on me."

"Dear! dear!" said Mrs. Aylmer the less. She rolled her black eyes, then lowered them and fixed them on the carpet. It was impossible to understand Susan, she was a most extraordinary woman. If, after all, Florry was on the right track and won the day!

"Girls of fifteen are not specially well educated," proceeded Mrs.

Aylmer, fixing her eyes again upon Florence's face, which was now a little red; "and I don't intend your education to be finished. I have been fortunate enough to gain you admittance into an excellent school for the daughters of the poor clergy. You are to go as a pupil teacher; you will not receive any remuneration for the first two years, but you can continue to have lessons in music, French, and German."

"And what about English?" said Florence.

"You are to impart English. I conclude that at your age you at least know your mother tongue thoroughly."

"But that's just it, I do not," said Florence. "I know French fairly well for a girl of my age, and I have a smattering of German, and am fairly fond of music. I don't care for English History nor English Literature, and I have not studied either of them; and my grammar is very weak, and my spelling--well, Aunt Susan, I can't spell properly.

I am sorry, but I inherit bad spelling from my mother."

"Oh, Florence!" cried the poor little widow.

"I do, Mummy; you know perfectly well that you have never yet spelt 'arrange' right, nor 'agreeable.' You always leave out one of the 'e's'

in the middle of agreeable. Oh, I have had such a fight with those two words, and I do inherit my bad spelling from you. Well, Aunt Susan, what more do you wish me to say?"

"I cannot admire your manners, Florence, and as to your appearance, it leaves very much to be desired."

Mrs. Aylmer looked very calmly all over Florence. Florence suddenly sprang to her feet, her temper was getting the better of her. She inherited her temper, not from her mother, for the little Mummy had the easiest-going temper in the world, but from her father. John Aylmer when he was alive had been known to plead his own cause with effect on more than one occasion, and now some of his spirit animated his young daughter. She rose to her feet and spoke hastily.

"I am not good-looking," she said, "and I know it; I cannot help my features, G.o.d gave them to me and I must be content with them. My nose is snub and my mouth is wide, but I have got some good points, and if I were your daughter, Aunt Susan--and I am heartily glad I'm not your daughter; I would much, much rather be Mummy's daughter, poor as she is--but if I were your daughter you would dress me in such a fashion that my good points would come out, for I have good points; a nice complexion, fine hair and plenty of it, and fairly good eyes, and my figure would not look clumsy if I wore proper stays and properly-made dresses; and my feet would not be like clodhoppers, if I had fine well-made boots and silk stockings; and my hands----"

"You need not proceed, Florence," said Mrs. Aylmer, rising abruptly.

"Mabel, I pity you; I should like to wash my hands of your daughter, but I cannot forget my promise to my poor dead husband, who begged me on his deathbed not to allow either of you to starve. 'For the sake of the family, Susan,' he said, 'don't let my sister-in-law Mabel and her daughter Florence go to the workhouse.' And I promised him, and I mean as long as the breath animates this feeble frame to keep my word.

"As long as I live, Mabel, your fifty pounds a year is secured to you, and I shall allow you, after Florence leaves that expensive school, which has cost me from one hundred and twenty to a hundred and forty pounds a year, to give you an additional fifteen pounds, thus raising your income to the very creditable one of sixty-five pounds per annum.

As to you, Florence, having gone to the enormous expense of your education and having placed you at Mrs. Goodwin's excellent school at Stoneley Hall as pupil teacher, I wash my hands of you."

"Very well, Aunt Susan, that's all right," replied Florence. "I never did like you and I like you less every time I see you, but I want to say something on my own account. It is quite possible that I may not go to Mrs. Goodwin's school at Stoneley Hall. There is a chance that I may be able to remain at Cherry Court School quite independent of you, Aunt Susan."

"Yes, Flo, that's right," said Mrs. Aylmer the less, rising now to her feet and giving her daughter an admiring glance. "I always knew you had spirit, my darling; you inherit it from your poor dear father. If John were alive he would be proud of you, now, Flo. Tell about the Scholarship, Florry, my pet; tell about the Scholarship, dear."

Mrs. Aylmer the great was now so speechless with astonishment that she did not open her lips. Florence turned and faced her.

"It is your fault that I am plain," she said, "you have not done what my uncle asked you to do. You have paid my fees at school, but you have not made it possible for me to grow up nice in any sense of the word. You have always thrown your gifts in my face, and you have never given me decent clothes to wear. It is very hard on a girl to be dressed as shabbily as I am, and to be twitted by her companions for what she cannot help; and although you kept me at Cherry Court School, there have been times over and over when I hated you, Aunt Susan, and but for my dear little Mummy I would have left the school and earned my bread as a dressmaker or a servant. But there is a chance that I may continue to be a lady and hold the position I was born to without any help from you. A great Scholarship has been offered to the girls of Cherry Court School. It is offered by Sir John Wallis, the owner of Cherry Court Park."

"Sir John Wallis! The owner of Cherry Court Park! Why, I know him,"

said Mrs. Aylmer. "I was staying in the same house with him last year--a most charming man, delightful, good-looking, most agreeable manners, and such a brave soldier! Do you mean to tell me, Florence, that you know him?"

"He is the patron of our school; I thought you were aware of that fact," said Florence.

"Your manners, my dear, are simply odious, but I listen to your words with interest. Ah! here comes the tea. Put it on that table, waiter!"

The waiter appeared, carrying the tray waiter-fashion on his hand. It contained three very small cups of weak tea, and about five tiny wafers of the thinnest bread and b.u.t.ter. There was a little sky-blue milk in a jug, and a few lumps of sugar in a little silver basin. Mrs. Aylmer glanced at the meal as if she were about to give her sister-in-law and her niece a royal feast. "This is most exciting," she said; "we will enjoy our tea when you, Florence, have explained yourself. So you know Sir John Wallis. When you see him again pray remember me to him."

"Oh, I don't know him personally," said Florence; "there is a girl at the school he is very fond of, but I just go in with the others. He is giving the Scholarship, however."

"Go on, my dear; you interest me immensely. With judicious dress and a little attention to manners, you might be more presentable than I thought you were at first, Florence. Take this chair near me; now go on. What has dear Sir John done?"

"He is offering a Scholarship to the girls of Cherry Court School, and the girl who wins the Scholarship is to receive a free education for three years," said Florence. "I am trying for the Scholarship, and if I win it I shall remain at Cherry Court School for three years at Sir John's expense. I shall be known as the Cherry Court Scholarship girl, and be much respected by my companions; so you, Aunt Susan, will have nothing to say to my subsequent education. I shall be very pleased to wash my hands of you. I think, Mummy, that is about all, and we had better go now. There will be a better tea for us at home, and I for one am rather hungry."

Mrs. Aylmer the great was quite silent for a moment, then she spoke in a changed voice.

"Florence," she said, "you need much correction; you are a very bombastic, disagreeable, silly, ignorant girl, but I will own it--I do admire spirit, you have a look of your father, and I was very fond of poor John; not as fond of him as I was of my own dear Tom, but still I respected him. Had he lived you would have been a different girl, but your unfortunate mother--"

"If you say a word against mother I shall leave the room this instant, and never speak to you again," said Florence.

"Really, my dear, you do go a little beyond yourself--I who have done so much for you; but that Scholarship is interesting. Florence, you had better go home; I will have a word with your mother by herself.

First of all, however, are you likely to win it?"

"I vow that I'll get it," said Florence.

"Florence is really clever, dear Susan," said Mrs. Aylmer the less, now bursting in in an irrepressible voice; "I believe Sir John is much struck with her. He did an extraordinary thing, and at the Cherry Feast, which always ends the summer term at the school, had a preliminary examination, and dear Flo, with two other girls, is eligible to compete for the great Scholarship. They call themselves the lucky three--their names are Kitty Sharston, Mary Bateman, and Florry. Yes, Florence is very clever."

"She has a good-shaped forehead," said Mrs. Aylmer; "I greatly admire genius. You can go, Florence; I'll speak to your mother."

"I think you had better come too, Mummy," said Florence; "surely it is not necessary for you to remain."

But Mrs. Aylmer glanced at her sister-in-law and then at Florence, and decided to remain.

"No, no, dear child," she said, "I have a great deal to say to your Aunt Susan; she has the kindest heart in the world, and the fact is, I am looking forward to my cup of tea. What delicious tea it looks! It is so kind of you, Susan, to give it to me."

Florence stalked to the door without a word, opened it, and shut it after her. When she had done so the widow glanced at the rich Mrs.

Aylmer.

"You must forgive the dear child, Susan," she said.

"Forgive her! there is nothing to forgive," said Mrs. Aylmer.

"But she was very rude to you."

"I prefer her rudeness to your fawning, Mabel, and that I will say frankly."

"Fawning! Dear Susan, you certainly have a very peculiar way, but there--"

"We need not talk about my ways; my ways are my own. I wish to say something now. If my niece Florence wins the Scholarship, after her term at Cherry Court has expired I shall send her abroad for two years, paying all expenses of her education there. On her return, if she turns out to be a highly-educated, stylish woman, I shall take her to live with me, taking a house in London and giving her every advantage.

I intended to do this for Florence if she turned out good-looking; she will never be good-looking, but she may be a genius which is equally interesting. All depends on her winning the Scholarship. If she loses it she goes to Mrs. Goodwin's school at Stoneley Hall, having clearly proved to me that her abilities are not above the average. If she wins it I do what I say, and in the meantime I wish you, my dear Mabel, to get her one or two pretty dresses, a nice hat, and a few suitable clothes. Or, stay, I have not the least doubt that your taste is atrocious; give me her measurements, and I shall write to my own dressmaker in London. Florence shall return to Cherry Court School as my niece, and I will write to Sir John Wallis myself with regard to her. Now, I think that is all. Oh, you would like your tea. Take it, pray, and hand me a cup. That silly girl! but I always did admire frankness."