"Nonsense, nonsense! I might have expected something poor compared to your fiction; but at least you did know the Queen's English: you did know how to spell. You have behaved very badly, and it is only because the governor and I feel certain that this is a trick that we put up with it. Come, have we not offered you enough? I will pay you a little more, but another essay I must have, and in twenty-four hours from the present time."
"And suppose I refuse?"
"In that case, Miss Aylmer, I shall be driven to conclude that your talent was but fictitious, and that—"
"That I am a humbug?" said Florence. A look came into her eyes which he could not quite fathom. It was a hungry look. They lit up for a moment, then faded, then an expression of resolve crept round her lips.
"I will write something," she said; "but give me two days instead of one."
"What do you mean by two days?"
"I cannot let you have it to-morrow evening; you shall have it the evening after. It shall be good; it shall be my best. Give me time."
"That's right," he said, grasping her hand. "Upon my word you gave me a horrid fright. Don't play that sort of trick again, that's all. We are to have that article, then, in two days?"
"Yes, yes."
He left her. The moment he had done so Florence snatched up the paper which he had brought back, tore it into a hundred fragments, thrust the fragments into the fire, and rushed downstairs. She herself was desperate now. She went to the nearest telegraph-office and sent the following message to Bertha Keys:—