Mrs. Aylmer the great generally wrote few words. It was only on the occasion of her last letter that she had indulged in a long correspondence. Now she said briefly: "MY DEAR MABEL: I believe that Florence's box of clothes will arrive on Thursday evening, so that she will be able to return to Cherry Court School dressed as my niece. I wish her in future to speak of herself as my niece, as I am very well known in many circles as Mrs. Aylmer, of Aylmer Hall. If Florence plays her cards well and obtains the Scholarship she will have a good deal to say of Aylmer Hall in the future. "I enclose herewith a five-pound note, and please ask Florence to exchange her third-class ticket for a first-class one, and telegraph to the station-master at Hilchester to have a carriage waiting for her, in order to take her back to the school as my niece ought to arrive. Tell her from me that during the next term I will allow her as pocket-money two pounds a month, so that she may show her companions she is really the niece of a wealthy woman. As to you, Mabel, I hope you will not interfere in any way with the dear child, but allow her to pursue her studies as my niece ought. If she fails to get the Scholarship all these good things will cease, but doubtless she has too much spirit and too much ability to fail." "There," said Mrs. Aylmer, when she had finished the letter, "can you take your tea after that? Five pounds, and you are to go back first-class! That I should live to see the day! This is all Sir John Wallis's doing. There is not the least doubt that he had a wonderful effect upon Aunt Susan." "Yes, a wonderful effect," said Florence, in a gloomy voice. She was wearing the neat and beautifully fitting serge, a white linen collar encircled her throat, and was fastened by the neatest of studs, and white linen cuffs also encircled her wrists; her figure was shown off to the best advantage. On her feet were the silk stockings and the dainty shoes which she had so coveted a week ago, and yet her heart felt heavy, heavy as lead. Her mother pushed the five-pound note towards her, but she did not touch it. "Look here, Mummy," she said, "we will exchange the third-class fare for a first-class one, and then you shall have the balance of the five pounds. It will make up for what you denied yourself to have me here; it is only fair." "Oh, Flo, you dear, sweet, generous child--but dare I take it?" "Yes, Mummy, you must take it; it is the only drop of comfort in all this. I don't like it, Mummy. I have a mind even now to----" "To what, my dear child?" "To take off this finery and send back the money, and just be myself. I wish to respect myself, but somehow I don't now. Oh, Mummy, Mummy, I don't like it."