"You know!" replied Mrs. Aylmer. "Who told you?"
"Sukey."
"I begged of her not; but really that woman can keep nothing to herself, and she is always agog to be first in the field. Your aunt is going to send me a trunk full of old clothes. I dare say some of them may be made to fit you, Flo."
"I do not think so, mother," answered Florence.
"Where is the use of being proud? She's a very fine figure of a woman still. She wears wonderfully, and she has a most charming secretary: a sort of companion, a delightful girl. She and I walked down together almost to this door. She is in your shoes, my poor Florence; but she is really a very nice girl."
"I have seen her to-day, mother; I know who she is," said Florence gravely; "her name is Bertha Keys."
"Bertha Keys," replied Mrs. Aylmer; "Bertha Keys?"
"You know who Bertha Keys is, mother. She is the girl, the pupil teacher, who behaved so badly at Cherry Court School six years ago."
"Oh, we won't mention that affair; it is dead and buried; we are not going to dig it out of its grave," replied Mrs. Aylmer.
Florence did not reply. She looked full at her mother.