"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 scraps which that young man ought to have eaten last night, you never came in to partake. I had lobster salad of the most recherché 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-butter. I am sorry to say I can afford nothing else for your dinner to-day."