Florence read the letter over once or twice. She then put it in her pocket and paced thoughtfully up and down the cherry orchard. The cherry trees were rapidly dropping their leaves now, and some of them fell over Florence. She shook them off impatiently.
"It was queer of mother never to mention those postoffice orders which I sent her," thought the girl; "she has not even thanked me for them; but there, I suppose it is all right, and she is very happy. It was good of Sir John to send her that twenty pounds, and yet—and yet it chokes me to think of it. He would not dare to send the money to Kitty's cousin, Helen Dartmoor, nor would he dare to send it to Mary Bateman's father. Oh, if I can only win this Scholarship I shall hold my head high and exercise that pride, which, after all, no woman ought to be without."
Florence went back to the house, and soon afterwards Bertha Keys entered the oak parlor. In the course of the morning she sat next to Florence, who bent towards her and said, "I have had a long letter from my mother."
"Oh, indeed," said Bertha, changing color in spite of herself; "and what did she say?"
"She is coming to Cherry Court Park. Bertha, it is rather queer she has said nothing at all about the postoffice orders. I wonder if she got them safely."
"Is it likely she didn't?" replied Bertha, in a calm voice; "of course she did. She was too excited to think of them; to have an invitation of that sort would absorb her very much."
"It does absorb her very much indeed," replied Florence. "Doubtless she forgot. Well, I shall soon see her and be able to ask her all about the matter."
Sir John Wallis had arranged that the three girls who were to compete for the Scholarship were to arrive at Cherry Court Park early on the morning of the great day. They were to sleep there that night, and return to the school the following day. The rest of the school were to arrive in the evening, but the Scholarship girls were to have the run of the Hall, and were to be entertained as the honored guests during the whole of the important day.
No girls could possibly be more excited than these three when at last the morning broke. Florence, who had scarcely slept at all the previous night, felt that she would be almost glad, even if the worst befell her, to have the terrible ordeal over.
"By this time to-morrow I shall be the happiest girl in the world or the most truly miserable," she thought to herself. But the greatness of the ordeal now had a certain composing effect, and Kitty, Mary and Florence started off in Sir John's carriage in apparently high spirits.