"And you have not touched on the most important point of all," said Florence.  "It is this: I hate that rich aunt who all the time means so much to me, and I love, I adore, I worship my mother.  You would think nothing of my mother, Bertha, for she is not beautiful, and she is not great; she is perhaps what you would call commonplace, and she has very, very little to live on, and that very little she owes to my aunt, but all the same I would almost give my life for my mother, and if I fail in the Scholarship my mother will suffer as much as I.  Oh, dear! oh, dear!  I am an unhappy girl!"