you do it? I am quite agreeable. I will furnish you with a short story,
say, once a fortnight, or once a month. Will you take one with you and
try to sell it as your own? I can do it in the evenings, and you shall
have it. Don't you think that I am paying you well, now, to keep
silence? I am offering you an honourable livelihood, and in the meantime
there is the fifty pounds: you may as well have it; it will keep you
until the money for the stories comes in, and you can pay me back when
you like. I dare not appear before the world as a writer, for Mrs.
Aylmer is hard to please, and she would not like me to write or to do
anything but devote my time to her; but there are hours at night when
she goes to bed which I can devote to your service. Now, what do you
say? It seems to me to be a very good offer."

"It is a tempting offer, certainly," said Florence; "but I never thought
of writing. I have no particular taste for it."

"Well, think it over," said Bertha, rising as she spoke, "and in the
meantime I will send you the money this evening."

"Oh, I cannot take it; please don't."

"I will send it to you," said Bertha, in a gay voice; "it is quite
arranged. Good-bye, dear; I wish you success. When you are a great
writer we can cast up accounts and see on which side the balance lies.
You quite understand? I have a gift in that way which I think can be
turned to account. You will agree to do what I wish, will you not,
Florence?"

"It is all horrible! I do not know what to say," answered Florence.

"I see in your eyes that you mean to accept; you cannot help yourself.
You cannot possibly starve, and you will find when you go to London that
the posts of teachers and secretaries are overfull; but the writer of
clever short stories can always find a market for his or her wares."

Florence rose to her feet.

"I don't like it," she said; "I am thoroughly miserable. I wish there
were some other way; but there is not."

"Well, try for yourself before you think of the story part; but, anyhow,
you must take the fifty pounds--you really must."

Bertha rose, touched Florence lightly on her cheek, and before the other
girl could say a word turned and left her. She walked across the beach
now with a dancing step.

"I have scored a point," she said to herself; "Florence won't dare to
tell. She is as certain to accept that fifty pounds as she is to eat her
breakfast to-morrow morning. After all, I am very generous to her; but