A Bunch of Cherries Part 16

At that moment Florence entered the room. She sat down at her desk, unlocked it, and took out her papers. She was just about to commence her study--for the Scholarship study was all extra, and had to be done in odd hours and moments--when, glancing up, she met the disturbed and questioning gaze of Kitty Sharston.

"Look here," said Kitty, "we three are alone now; let us have a good talk, just once, if never again. Why do you want to get the Scholarship, Mary? Why?"

"Why do I want to get it?" said Mary.

"Oh, I wish to work now; if you mean to discuss that point I had better leave the room," said Florence.

"No, no, do stay, Flo; I won't be more than a moment. I want to understand things, that's all," said Kitty. "Please, Mary, say why is the Scholarship of great importance to you."

"Well, for several reasons," replied Mary. "I am not like you, Florence, and I am not like you, Kitty. I have got both a father and mother. My father is a clergyman; there are nine other children besides me--I am the third. It was extremely difficult for father to send me to this expensive school, but he felt that education was the one thing necessary for me. Father is a very advanced, liberal-minded man; he is before his time, so everyone says; but mother does not think it necessary that girls should know too much. Mother thinks that a girl ought to be purely domestic; she is very particular about needlework, and she would like every girl to be able to make a shirt well, and to be able to cook and preserve, and know a little about gardening, and know a great deal about keeping a house in perfect order. But father says, and very rightly, that every girl cannot marry, and that the girls who do not marry cannot want to know a great deal about keeping a house in order, and that such girls, unless they have fortunes left to them, will have to earn their own living. Of course, there are very few openings for women, and most women have to teach, so it is decided that I shall teach by and by. If marriage comes, all right, but if it does not come I shall earn my living as a governess.

"Now, to be a really good governess father wants me to be very well educated, and he is spending the little money that he might have left to me when he died in sending me to this good school. Whether I get the Scholarship or not, I shall remain at the school for three years.

I am fifteen now; I shall remain here until I am eighteen. If I do get the Scholarship father means to save the money that the three years'

schooling would cost, and he means to send me when I return home at the age of eighteen to a wonderful new College for Women which has been established at a place called Girton. He will spend the money which he would have spent on my education at Cherry Court School in keeping me at Girton, where I shall attend the University lectures at Cambridge, and learn as much as a man learns. It is wonderful to think of it.

Mother is rather vexed; she says that I shall be put out of my sphere and cease to be womanly, but I don't think I could ever be that. You see that it is very important for me to win the Scholarship, and I mean to try very, very, very hard."

When Mary had finished her little speech she drooped her head once again over her desk. When at last she raised her eyes she encountered the bold black ones of Florence Aylmer, and the soft, lovely, dilated eyes of Kitty Sharston.

"And I want to win the Scholarship," said Kitty, taking up the theme, "because it means staying on here and being happy and being well educated for three years. It means getting the best lessons in music, and the best lessons in singing, and the best lessons in art, and it means also getting the best instruction in modern languages, and in all those other things which an accomplished woman ought to know. Then at the end of three years if all is well and father gets promoted to the hill station, I shall go out to join him in Northern India, and I want to be as perfect as possible in order to be father's friend as well as daughter, his companion as well as child."

"And if you don't get the Scholarship, what will happen?" said Florence, in a low, growling sort of voice.

"Why, then I am going to live with a lady whom I don't love; her name is Helen Dartmoor; she is a Scotchwoman, and a cousin of my mother's.

She is not the least like my dear mother, and I never loved her, and I know that the best in me will not be brought to the fore if I am with her; and I shan't learn those things which would delight dear father; I shall not know modern languages, nor be a good musical scholar, nor be able to sing nicely, and I--I shall hate that life, and my nature may be warped, and I--but, oh! I will win the Scholarship."

Kitty sprang to her feet and went over to the window. "This makes me restless," she said; "I didn't mean to express all my feelings; I am very sorry for you, Mary, and for you, Florence, but, I mean to get the Scholarship."

"You have not yet seen the thing from my point of view," said Florence.

"Perhaps in reality this means more to me than even to you, Kitty, for I--I in reality am horribly poor. I know, Kitty, that you are poor too--I know perfectly well that your father is poor for his position; but whatever happens, you are a lady, Kitty, and your father is a gentleman, and at the end of three years, whether you win the Scholarship or not, you will go out to him and lead the life of a lady.

I don't suppose, when all is said and done, that it will make any difference in his affection whether you can speak French and read German or not, and I am certain he won't kiss you less often because you do not play charmingly and because you do not sing divinely. But I--if I lose the Scholarship I lose all--yes, I lose all," said Florence, rising to her feet and standing before the other two girls with a solemn and yet frightened look on her face. "For I shall sink in every sense of the word; I shall no longer be a lady, I shall go as pupil teacher to a common, rough sort of school, and my mother, my dear mother, will suffer, and I shall suffer, and all the good things of life will be taken from me. So it is more to me than it is to you, Kitty Sharston; and as to you, Mary Bateman, you are out of count altogether, for why should you go to that new-fangled college and be turned into a man when you are born a woman? No, no; I mean to get this Scholarship, for it means not only all my future, but mother's future too. It is more to me than to either of you."

Florence swept up her papers, thrust them into her desk, and abruptly left the room, slamming the door after her.

Kitty looked at Mary, and Kitty's eyes were full of tears. "It is quite dreadful," she said; "how she does feel it! I never knew Florence was that intense sort of girl, and it does seem a great deal to her. What is to be done, Mary? Are we to give it up?"

"Give it up?" said Mary, with a laugh; "not quite. Kitty, for goodness' sake, don't allow Florence's words to trouble you. You have got to fight with all your might and main. You will fight honorably and so will I, and if you mean to give it up there will be the greater chance for me, but of course you won't give it up."

"No, I shan't give it up," said Kitty, "but all the same, Florence's words pain me."

At that moment a clear ringing little voice was heard in the pa.s.sage outside, the door of the oak parlor was burst open, and Dolly Fairfax rushed in. Dolly's eyes were shining and her cheeks were crimson.

"Here are two letters," she said, "both for you, Kitty Sharston; it isn't fair that you should get all the letters."

"Come and sit on my knee while I read them," said Kitty, stretching out her arms to Dolly.

Dolly sprang into Kitty's lap, twined her soft arms round her neck, and laughed into her face.

"I do so love you, Kitty," she said; "I do so hope you will win the Scholarship. I don't want you to get it, ugly Mary, and I don't want nasty Florence to get it; but I want you, sweet, dear, darling Kitty, to get it. You shall--you shall!"

"You are a very rude little thing, but I don't mind," said Mary, laughing good-humoredly. "I know I am plain, and I don't care a bit; I'll win the Scholarship if I never win anything else, so you may as well make up your mind, Kitty Sharston."

But Kitty never heard her, she was deep in her father's letter. Yes, it had come, and it was a long letter closely written on foreign paper, and Kitty took a very long time reading it, so long that little Dolly slipped off her lap and wandered restlessly to the window and stood there gazing out into the court, and then back again into the softly-shaded room, with the slanting rays of the afternoon sun making bars of light across the oak.

At last Kitty finished; she heaved a long sigh and looked up. "I had forgotten you were here, Mary," she said, "and as to you, Dolly--but there, it is beautiful, good news. Father has arrived and has begun his work, and he says he has every chance of going up into the hills about the time that I shall have finished my education here. Oh, it is such a relief to read his letter. If you are very good indeed, Mary, and if you are very good, Dolly, you shall both hear some of my letter--not the private part, of course--but the public part, which speaks about father's wonderful interesting travels, and his sort of public life, the life he gives to his country. Oh, dear! I never saw anyone grander than dear, dear father!"

"You have said that very often," said Dolly; "I have got a father too, but I don't think he is specially grand. I suppose it was because your father was a hero before Sebastopol. I shall never forget about Sebastopol now and the trenches since you told me that wonderful story about your father and Sir John Wallis, and the night they were both nearly frozen," said Dolly Fairfax. "I suppose that is why you love your father so much."

"No, it isn't," answered Kitty stoutly; "I love him just because he is my father and because, because, oh! I don't know why--I love him because I do."

"Well, read your other letter now; two have come--read the other."

Kitty picked up the other letter and glanced at it. "This is a private letter; it has come by hand," she said. "Oh, of course, it is from Sir John Wallis. I wonder what he has got to say to me."

Kitty opened the letter and read the following words:

"MY DEAR KITTY: I want you and Miss Florence Aylmer and Miss Mary Bateman to spend to-morrow with me at Cherry Court Park. Mrs.

Clavering will accompany you, and I have written to her also on the subject. My dear child, my reason in having you three girls is simply that I want to study your characters. I say this quite frankly, and you may tell both your companions that such is my intention in having you to spend a long day with me. I will do all I can to make you happy, and I think it but fair to put all three of you on your guard, for please understand that the Scholarship is given, not only for scholarly attainments and correct deportment, but also for those lofty traits of character which are a greater possession to any woman than either ladylike manners or great accomplishments. Pray do not be anything but your natural selves to-morrow, for I shall never allude to this matter again. From now until the date when the Scholarship is to be decided, I will expect you three to spend one day a week at Cherry Court Park.

"Your affectionate friend, "JOHN WALLIS."

CHAPTER XIV.

AT THE PARK.

The news that the lucky three were to spend a whole day at Cherry Court Park caused great excitement amongst the other girls of the school.

"It's nothing short of delightful," said Alice Cunningham to her sister; "I only wish I had such a chance."

"Well, you have not, so there's no use in fretting about it," replied Mabel. "They certainly are having a good time, but who will win? I vote for Florence."

"And I for Kitty," said Alice; "who has a chance beside Kitty? She is the most brilliant of the three girls, and such a favorite with Sir John."

"But for that very reason she may have less chance of winning, because Sir John is a wonderfully just man. Did you ever see anyone so terribly in earnest as Florence? Her eyes have quite a strained look at times, and she does not eat half as much as she did; then she gets such long, long letters from that wonderful aunt of hers. She did not get those letters at all last term, and her dress is so smart, and she has such heaps of pocket-money; there is a great change in Florence.

Sometimes I feel that I want her to win, but at other times all my sympathies are for Kitty."

"No one seems to think of poor Mary Bateman," said Edith King, in a thoughtful voice, "and yet in reality she is one of the nicest girls in the school, and if she wins the Scholarship, for she has been telling me all about it, she is to go to Girton."

"Where in the name of wonder is Girton?" asked Alice Cunningham.

"Oh, it is a College for Women which has been opened near Cambridge."

"Then if I thought I had to go to a College for Women I should be rather sorry to win the Scholarship," said Mabel Cunningham; "but there, don't let us talk of it any more. We are to have something of a half-holiday to-day, for Mrs. Clavering is to take the three lucky ones to Cherry Court Park."

Florence dressed herself with great care for this expedition. Kitty had shown her Sir John's letter, and she had felt a queer tingling pain at her heart as she read it; but then a sort of defiance, which was growing more and more in her character day by day, arose to her aid, and she determined that she would not give Sir John one loophole to find out anything amiss in her conduct.