anything about my looks;
I want to speak to you," said Florence.

For a wild moment Bertha Keys felt inclined to say, "It is impossible;
I am engaged with my pupils, and cannot give you any of my time," but a
glance into Florence's face showed her, as she vulgarly expressed it,
"the fat was in the fire," and she had better face the position at
once. Accordingly she said coolly, "I can give you two or three
minutes, although I cannot imagine what you want to say now. I shall
come to see you when it is all over. There is not the slightest doubt
that you will win the Scholarship, so rest assured on that head."

"If I thought for a moment there was a doubt do you think I would have
acted as I did?" said Florence; "but now that things have come to a
crisis I wonder if I greatly care. I----"

"Oh, nonsense, Florence, how would you stand the disgrace? and the
clergy school, you know--don't forget, Florence, what it means. Hold
up your head, pluck up your courage. What is it you want to say to me?"

"Something--but I must see you alone."

"Let us come along this corridor; there are a great many bedrooms: we
will open one on the chance of its being empty."

Bertha seized Florence's hand and began to fly down the corridor with
her. She knocked at a door, there was no reply, she opened it.

"There, it is unoccupied," she said; "we will stay here for a minute or
two. Come now, what is it?"

"It is this," said Florence; she turned and faced Bertha.

"Bertha Keys," she said, "my mother has told me, and I heard that of
you this morning which----"

"That of me, indeed," said Bertha, turning very pale; "what can you
have heard of me?"

"I have heard that which shows me your true character. My mother never
received those post-office orders. I gave you three sovereigns to
change into postoffice orders for my mother, and she--she never had
them; she never got any of my letters, she thought me cold, heartless,
unfeeling--she, my mother, the one I love best in the world. You, you
held back the letters, you kept the money--dare you deny it?"

"Oh, dear, what a fuss!" said Bertha. "But you can act just as you
please, Florence; you can go down and tell all about me. Of course,
having done so, my career will be ruined."

"What do you mean? What did you do?--speak, speak! Oh, this is
driving me mad!"

"Calm yourself, my dear, and stay quiet; I won't attempt to conceal the
truth from you. I took the money; I want