The Time of Roses

by L. T. Meade

Accordingly Florence returned home in as fair spirits as was to be expected.

She wrote and told her mother what she had done, and resolved to spend her time studying at the British Museum.

There were not many people yet in London, and she felt strange and lonely. A great longing for her old school life visited her. She wondered where her schoolfellows had gone, and what they were doing, and if they were also as hard pressed as she was.

Her money seemed to her to be already melting away in a remarkably rapid manner. She wanted new boots and a neat new serge dress, and thought she might as well get these necessary articles of apparel now, while she was waiting for a situation, as later; but, although she bought boots at the very cheapest place she could find, her funds melted still further, and before September was half through she had spent between five and six pounds of her small stock of money.

"This will never do," she said to herself; "I shall get so frightened that I shall become nervous. What am I to do? How am I to eke out the money till I get a post as teacher?"

It was already time for different mistresses at schools to be applying to her for her valuable services; but, although she listened with a beating heart as she heard the postman run up the stairs and deposit letters in the different hall doors of the various flats, very seldom indeed did the good man come up as far as her attic, and then it was a letter from her mother.

She decided to go again to the offices where she had entered her name, and enquire if there were any post likely to suit her which she could apply for. She was now received in a totally different spirit.

"It is extremely unlikely, miss," said one and all of the clerks who had been so specious on the occasion of her first visit, "that we can get you anything to do. You are not a governess, you know, in the ordinary sense. You cannot teach music, nor languages, nor drawing. What can you expect, madam?"

"But you told me," began poor Florence, "you told me when I paid my fee on the previous occasion of calling that you could get me a post without the slightest difficulty."

"We will do our utmost, of course, madam; but, with your want of experience, we can make no definite promise. We certainly made none in the past," and the clerk whom Florence was interrogating gave her a severe glance, which was meant as a dismissal.