"Oh, yes, I am quite rested," replied Florence; but there was a dead sort of look on her face and the color had gone out of her eyes.
Bertha walked briskly to the counter. She was in excellent spirits, her carriage was perfectly upright, her well-poised head looked almost queenly as it rested on her graceful shoulders. Her figure was Bertha's strong point, and it never looked better than now. Even Florence as she glanced at her was conscious of a dull admiration.
How clever Bertha was, and really, when you come to consider her carefully, how stylish and good-looking!
"I shall never again as long as I live say that I dislike red hair," thought Florence to herself. "Yes, Bertha certainly has a remarkable face; no wonder she is able to write; and as to her eyes, I shall end by liking her eyes. They do look as if they held a secret power."
Bertha having given her orders now, waited until Mrs. Baker, the confectioner's wife, had made up the cakes and biscuits and chocolate creams which were necessary for the evening conversazione. Each girl then carried a large parcel, and retraced her steps in the direction of Cherry Court School. Their walk back was as silent as the latter part of their walk to Hilchester.
Just as they were entering the porch of the school Bertha laid her hand on her companion's arm.
"Well?" she said.
"I cannot give you my answer to-night; I will to-morrow," said Florence.
"All right, Flo; but let me tell you in advance I know what that answer will be."
Florence felt a shudder run all through her frame. She ran upstairs to the dormitory. It was late, and time to dress for the evening festivities.