Florence did not return to the cottage
until past the usual dinner hour. When she did
so, her mother, who appeared to be very much excited,
met her in the porch.
“There has come a little parcel
for you,” she said, “from the ’Crown
and Garter Hotel.’ I wish you would open
it; I am quite curious: it is sealed. The
messenger did not want to leave it when I told him
that you were out. He said it had been given
him by Miss Keys to bring to you, and that he was
to give it into your hands. I wonder what it can
be?”
“Oh, it is nothing of importance,”
said Florence, turning quite pale. “Give
it to me, please, mother.”
“Nothing of importance, indeed!”
said the little widow, tossing her head; “it
seemed to me very much of importance. The messenger
was quite fussed when he found you were not here:
he said perhaps he had better take it back, but I
assured him that I did not lose things when they were
addressed to my only daughter, and that he might safely
trust me to put the parcel into your hands. He
was one of the waiters from the hotel a
very stylish-looking person indeed. What riches
and what luck follow some people! Why should
Miss Keys have everything and my poor girl be left
out in the cold?”
“Oh, mother, I would not change
with Bertha Keys for anything,” said Florence;
“but give me the parcel, please.”
“Here it is; you’ll open it and assuage
my curiosity.”
“It is only a letter from Bertha;
I quite know what it contains,” said Florence.
She got red first and then pale. Her mother’s
bright beady eyes were fixed on her face.
“Well, but can’t you open
it and tell me about it? You know how curiosity
does eat into me: I can’t sleep, I can’t
enjoy my food when there’s a secret surrounding
me. What’s in the letter, Flo? If you
are too tired to read it just now, I will open it
for you.”
“No, thank you, mother; I know
what it contains: it is a message from Miss Keys.
I met her on the sands this morning and and
she said she would write.”
With a wild fluttering at her heart,
Florence popped the sealed packet into her pocket
and sat down near the door.
“I am thoroughly tired,” she said, “and
my head aches.”
Mrs. Aylmer appeared to be annoyed and disappointed.
“I do declare,” she exclaimed,
“I don’t think any of the girls of the
present day have health worth mentioning. There’s
Kitty: she’s been fretting and fuming because
you went out without her; she’s a nice, refined
sort of little thing, but she has a headache, and now
after preparing the very nicest little dinner out
of the scraps which that young man ought to have eaten
last night, you never came in to partake. I had
lobster salad of the most recherche description, and
you were not present, while Kitty could scarcely eat
because of her headache, so I had to do justice to
the mayonnaise myself; and now you come in looking
washed out and wretched. I do declare,”
she concluded, “things are more comfortable
for me when Sukey and I are alone.”
“Well, mother, I shall be leaving
you shortly. I shall probably be going to London
to-morrow or next day.”
“So soon, after arranging to spend the holidays
with me?”
“I have changed my mind about
that now,” said Florence restlessly; “I
must work and begin to earn money.”
“I have not a penny to give
you to start with, you understand that.”
“I have a little money,”
said Florence, and her face coloured and then turned
pale: “I think I can manage.”
“I wonder how,” thought
the widow. She glanced at Florence, but did not
speak: a shrewd expression came into her eyes
and she pursed up her lips.
“I will go and coax Sukey to
make a cup of coffee for you,” she said:
“there is nothing like really strong coffee as
a cure for a headache, and you can have some bread-and-butter.
I am sorry to say I can afford nothing else for your
dinner to-day.”
“Oh, coffee and bread-and-butter
will do splendidly,” said Florence.
Her mother left the room. A moment later Kitty
came down.
“Flo,” she said, “I
have just received a letter from father; he will reach
Southampton to-morrow and I am to go and meet him there.
Won’t you come too?”
“Oh, may I go with you?”
said Florence, sensibly brightening.
“May you? Of course you
may; it will be so splendid to see him again, and
you must constantly stay with me constantly,
Flo dear. Oh, I am so happy, so happy!”