ol Bertha laid her hand
on her companion's arm.

"Well?" she said.

"I cannot give you my answer to-night; I will to-morrow," said Florence.

"All right, Flo; but let me tell you in advance I know what that answer
will be."

Florence felt a shudder run all through her frame. She ran upstairs to
the dormitory. It was late, and time to dress for the evening
festivities.

Kitty was in her cubicle. Mary Bateman in hers. Neither girl had
drawn her curtain, and when they saw Florence they each began to talk
to her.

"Do you know, Florence," said Mary, "that that little genius Kitty has
absolutely written her essay, finished it all between tea and this
hour. She means to polish it to-morrow, but the rough draft is done.
I feel quite in despair when I look at her."

"Oh, you need not; I don't suppose it is good a bit," said Kitty.

"I dare not ask you what it is about," said Mary, "or I would love
beyond words to read it. When I look at your face and then think that
you were asked to write on Heroism, I feel that you were given a task
which neither Florence nor I can execute."

"Speak for yourself, pray," said Florence, in a cross voice. She gave
a vindictive glance at Mary, avoided meeting Kitty's eyes, and vanished
into her own cubicle. Here she drew the turkey-red curtain, glanced
wildly round, and the next moment had dropped on her knees.

"Oh, please, God, save me from myself," whispered the wretched girl.
"Help me out of this somehow. Give me the strength to write the essay
myself. Oh, please, God, I must--I must have the Scholarship. Please,
please give me the ability, the genius to write the essay myself."

Her wild, distracted prayer was the reverse of soothing. She sprang
up, poured some water into her basin, and began to wash her face and
hands; then she dressed herself neatly and gracefully. There were no
lack of pretty dresses now for Florence Aylmer to bedeck herself in.
She took great pains with her toilet. There was a certain
satisfaction, as she donned her silken chains, in knowing that at least
she could look as well as Kitty, nicer even than Kitty, as far as dress
was concerned.

Mrs. Aylmer the great had excellent taste, and every one of Florence's
frocks were suitable for Florence to wear. They were all girlish and
simple. The frock she chose to-night was of a very pale pink. It was
made of the simplest stuff, and was not trimmed at all. It gave grace
to her figure and adde