Part 11 (1/2)
”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 a.s.suage 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 sc.r.a.ps 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-b.u.t.ter. I am sorry to say I can afford nothing else for your dinner to-day.”
”Oh, coffee and bread-and-b.u.t.ter 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!”
CHAPTER XI.
FLORENCE'S GOOD ANGEL.
”What is the matter, Flo?” said Kitty. The two girls were in their tiny bed-room. They were to leave Dawlish the next morning, as Kitty had persuaded Florence to go with her to Southampton in order that they might both be present when Colonel Sharston once more set foot on his native land.