embled as she read the last words. An unopened
letter from her mother lay on her lap. She flung down Mrs. Aylmer's
letter and took up her mother's. She had just broken the envelope and
was preparing to read it when Dolly Fairfax rushed into the room.

"Florence, do come out for one moment," she said; "Edith wants to tell
you something."

"Oh, I can't go; I am busy," said Florence, restlessly.

"I wish you would come; it is something important; it is something
about to-night. Do come; Edith would come to you, but she is looking
after two or three of the little ones in the cherry orchard. You can
go back in five minutes."

Uttering a hasty exclamation, and thrusting her mother's letter into
her pocket, Florence started up and followed Dolly. She forgot all
about her aunt's letter, which had fallen to the floor.

She had scarcely left the room before Bertha Keys stepped forward,
picked up the letter, read it from end to end, and having done so laid
it back on Florence's desk. Florence returned presently, sat down by
her desk, and, taking her mother's letter out of her pocket, read it.

The little Mummy was in trouble; she had contracted a bad cold, the
cold had resolved into a sharp attack of pleurisy. She was now on the
road to recovery, and Florence need not be the least bit anxious about
her, but she had run up a heavy doctor's bill, and had not the
slightest idea how she was to meet it.

"I do wish, Florence, my darling," she said, "you could manage to let
me have some of that pocket-money which your Aunt Susan sends you every
week. If I could give the doctor even one pound I know he would wait
for the rest, and then there is the chemist, too, and I have to be a
little careful now that the weather is getting chilly, and must have
fires in the evening, and so on. Oh, I am quite well, my precious pet,
but a little help from you would see me round this tight corner."

Florence ground her teeth and her eyes flashed. The little Mummy ill,
ill almost to the point of danger. Better now, it is true, but wanting
those comforts which Aunt Susan had in such abundance.

"I cannot stand it," thought the girl. "What is to be done? By fair
means or foul, I must get that Scholarship. Oh, I fear nothing. I
believe I am sure to win if only I can beat Kitty on her own ground.
Her ground is history and literature. There is to be a horrible theme
written, and a great deal depends on how that theme is handled, and