buzzing noise in her
ears. Higher and yet higher over her moral nature did the waves of
temptation rise. She struggled, but each struggle was feebler than the
last. They reached Hilchester, and Bertha looked at her companion.

"You are as white as a sheet," she said; "won't you go in and rest at
Mrs. Baker's shop? I shall call there presently for buns and things I
am bringing back for the conversazione to-night; she will gladly let
you rest. The postoffice is quite five minutes' walk from here. Let
me post your letter for you. Have you the money in your pocket for the
order?"

"I think I will rest at Mrs. Baker's," said Florence. "You will be
sure to get the order all right, Bertha? Here is the letter; put the
order in, won't you, and then put the letter in the post?"

"Yes, yes," said Bertha; "I'll be as quick as possible."

She almost snatched the letter from Florence's hand, took the
sovereign, slipped it into her purse, and walked down the street with
rapid strides. In less than a quarter of an hour she had returned to
Florence.

"It is all right," she said, briskly; "and now for my commissions here.
I hope you are more rested, Flo."

"Oh, yes, I am quite rested," replied Florence; but there was a dead
sort of look on her face and the color had gone out of her eyes.

Bertha walked briskly to the counter. She was in excellent spirits,
her carriage was perfectly upright, her well-poised head looked almost
queenly as it rested on her graceful shoulders. Her figure was
Bertha's strong point, and it never looked better than now. Even
Florence as she glanced at her was conscious of a dull admiration.

How clever Bertha was, and really, when you come to consider her
carefully, how stylish and good-looking!

"I shall never again as long as I live say that I dislike red hair,"
thought Florence to herself. "Yes, Bertha certainly has a remarkable
face; no wonder she is able to write; and as to her eyes, I shall end
by liking her eyes. They do look as if they held a secret power."

Bertha having given her orders now, waited until Mrs. Baker, the
confectioner's wife, had made up the cakes and biscuits and chocolate
creams which were necessary for the evening conversazione. Each girl
then carried a large parcel, and retraced her steps in the direction of
Cherry Court School. Their walk back was as silent as the latter part
of their walk to Hilchester.

Just as they were entering the porch of the scho