"I did, mother," said Florence, and now her lips trembled. "I did something very mean, and I did it to the girl who gave me those lovely cherry ribbons." "That spoilt chit--Kitty Sharston you call her?" "Yes, that girl. I opened her desk and looked at an answer which she put to a certain question in English History which I did not know myself. If I had not answered that question I make no doubt I should not have been included in the lucky three." "Well, well," said Mrs. Aylmer. She looked restless and disturbed. She went again to the little window and looked out. "I don't see how you can help yourself," she said. "But it was a mean thing, wasn't it, mother?" "Poor people cannot help themselves," said the widow, in a restless voice, "but I wish you hadn't told me, Florence; it was--it was the sort of thing that your poor father would not have done; but there, you couldn't help yourself, of course." "Then you don't think, mother, that I ought to tell Mrs. Clavering?" said Florence. "Tell and give up your chance! No, no, no; that is the disadvantage of being so poor, one has to stoop sometimes. Your father would not have done it, but you could not help yourself. Come out, child, come out." The mother and daughter wandered along the beach. They visited the shrimp-woman and then sat under the shade of a big rock and looked at the dancing waves, and talked of Florence's chance of winning the coming Scholarship. By tacit consent they neither of them alluded to that shabby deed which Florence had done; they were both in their hearts of hearts uncomfortable about it, but both equally resolved to carry the thing through now. "For it is too important," thought Mrs. Aylmer. And Florence also thought, "It is too important, it means too much; I must take every chance of securing the Scholarship." The two ladies returned home rather late, and there, to their astonishment, they found a telegram waiting them. It was addressed to Mrs. Aylmer. She tore it open eagerly and uttered an exclamation. "There, Florry," she said, "read that." Florence took the thin pink sheet and read the following words: "Staying at Torquay. Going back to London to-morrow. Will put up at the hotel at Dawlish for one night on purpose to see Florence.--SUSAN." "There," said the mother, "there's a chance for you, Flo; I hope you have brought a decent dress. Perhaps she will do something now that she sees you; it is a wonderful chance. Dear, dear, dear! I have not seen Susan for three or four years. She was a stylish woman in her day; perhaps she'll give me one or two of her cast-offs." "Mother," said Florence, "we must make the best of things. You must look nice and I must look nice, and we won't plead poverty. I feel proud in the presence of Aunt Susan. I am sorry she is coming; I may as well say so frankly." "But it's a great chance, child," said the widow; "what do you think about inviting her here to tea?"