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d help you." "I will, I must win," said poor Florence. "Oh, I could scarcely sleep last night with thinking of my mother. I am so truly, truly glad that you were able to post that letter in time; but for your happening to go to Hilchester she would not have had it this morning. Now she must be feeling great relief." "I can post as many more letters to your mother as you like," said Bertha Keys. "I will do anything in my power for you; I want you to believe that. I want you to believe also that I am in a position to give you serious and substantial help." "Thank you," said Florence. She gazed into Bertha's eyes, and felt a strange thrill. Bertha had a rare power of magnetism, and could influence almost any girl who had not sufficiently high principles to withstand her power. She now hastily left the oak parlor to attend to her studies, and Florence sat down to begin her studies. Her head ached, and she felt restless and miserable. She envied Kitty's serene face and Mary Bateman's downright, sensible way of attacking her subjects. "I cannot think how you keep so calm about it," she said to Mary, in the course of that morning; "suppose you lose?" "I have thought it all out," answered Mary, "and I cannot do more than my best. If I succeed I shall be truly, truly glad. If I fail I shall be no worse off than I was before. I wish you would feel as I do about it, Florry, and not make yourself quite ill over the subject. The fact is you are not half as nice as you were last term when everyone called you Tommy." "Oh, I know, I know," answered Florence, "but I cannot go back now. What do you think the theme for the Scholarship will be?" "I have not the slightest idea. That theme will be Kitty's strong point; there is not the slightest doubt about that." Florence bent again over her French exercise. She was fairly good at French, and her German was also passable, but as she read and worked and struggled through a difficult piece of translation her thoughts wandered again and again to the subject of the English theme. What would it be? History, poetry, or anything literary? The more she thought, the less she liked the idea of this supreme test. Dinner passed, and the moment for the reassembling of the school for afternoon work arrived. Just as all the girls were streaming into the large schoolroom, Mrs. Clavering came hurriedly forward. "Before you begin your duties this afternoon, young
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