e 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 go