Meade L. T. - The Time of Roses стр 29.

"Whatever happens, she must not come here," thought Bertha; "but how am I to get to the station, so early too, just when Mrs. Aylmer wants me for a hundred things? Stay, though: I have an idea."

CHAPTER XXXI. BERTHA WRITES THE ESSAY

Breakfast was never over at Aylmer's Court until long past nine o'clock, and if Bertha wished to keep Florence from putting in a most undesired appearance, she must be at Hamslade Station at half-past nine. She had a chat with the cook and then wrote a brief note to Mrs. Aylmer. It ran as follows:

"I am going in the dogcart to Hamslade. Have just ascertained that the pheasants we intended to have for dinner to-day are not forthcoming. Will wire for some to town, and also for peaches. I will leave a line with Kitty Sharston to take the head of the table at breakfast."

"She will be awfully cross about it all," thought Bertha, "and, of course, it is a lie, for there is plenty of game in the larder, and we have an abundant supply of peaches and apricots, but any port in a storm, and cook will not betray me."

The dogcart was round at the door sharp at nine o'clock, and Bertha, having sent up a twisted bit of paper to Kitty's bed-room, asking her to pour out coffee, started on her way. She reached the station a little before the train came in, and sent the necessary telegrams to the shops in London with which they constantly dealt.

A large party was expected to dine at Aylmer's Court that night, which was Bertha's excuse for ordering the fruit and game. The train was rather late, which added to her impatience. She paced up and down the platform, and when at last Florence's anxious, perturbed face appeared, Bertha was by no means in the best of humours.

"What mad craze is this?" she cried. "You know you cannot possibly come to Aylmer's Court. I came here to prevent it. Now, what is it you want with me?"

"I must speak to you, and at once, Bertha."

"Come into the waiting-room for a moment. You must return by the next train, Florence; you really must. You don't know how terribly annoyed I am, and what risks I run in coming here. The house is full of company, and there is to be a dinner-party to-night. Mrs. Aylmer won't forgive me in a hurry."

While Bertha was talking Florence remained quite silent.

"We must find out the next train to town," continued Bertha.

"I am not going back until you do what I want," said Florence. "I dare not. If you do not choose to have me at Aylmer's Court, I will stay here; but you must do what I want."

"What is that?"

"I want you to write an essay for me immediately."

"Oh, my dear, what utter folly! Really, when I think of the way in which I have helped you, and the splendid productions which are being palmed off to the world as yours, you might treat me with a little more consideration. My head is addled with all I have to do, and now you come down to ask me to write an essay."

"Listen, Bertha, listen," said poor Florence. She then told her story in as few words as possible.

"I made such a fool of myself. I was very nearly betrayed, but fortunately Mr. Franks and Mr. Anderson took it as a practical joke. I have promised that they shall have an admirable essay by to-morrow evening. You must write it; you must let me have it to take back with me."

"What is the subject?" said Bertha, who was now listening attentively.

"The modern woman and her new crazes. You know you have all that sort of thing at your finger-tips," said Florence, glancing at her companion.

"Oh, yes, I could write about the silly creatures if I had time; but how can I find time to-day? It is not even a story. I have to think the whole subject out and start my argument and it cannot be done, Florence that's all."

"But it can, it must be done," replied Florence. "Bertha, I am desperate; all my future depends on this. I have gone wrong again, and you are the cause, and now I will not lose all: I must at least have my little share of this world's goods as my recompense. Oh, I am a miserable girl! You are the evil genius of my life."

"Don't talk such folly," said Bertha; "do let me think."

They were now both seated in the waiting-room, and Bertha covered her face for a moment with her hands. Florence looked round, she felt hemmed in, and now that she was face to face with Bertha she found that she regarded her with loathing.

Presently Bertha raised her head and glanced at her.

"You must have it to-night?"

"Yes."

"Well, the best thing I can possibly do is to go straight home. I will leave you here; you must on no account let anyone see you that is all-important. I will try to get to the station this evening and let you have it. I don't know that I can write anything worth reading in the time."

"But at least you will give style and epigram and pure English," said poor Florence, who was sore after the bitter words with which her own production had been received.

"Yes, I shall at least write like a woman of education," said Bertha. "Well, stay here now, and I will, by hook or by crook, come here in time for you to take the last train to town. I suppose it would not do if I posted it?"