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But a time came when one of the girls could never return to St. Hildas, and the other, people said, did not care to sit in the old seat without her. They said she missed her friend, and was more cut up than anyone else at the sudden death of one so fair and lovely.
When Maggie took her place in the old stall to-day more than one person turned to look at her with interest.
Maggie always made a picturesque effect; she wore a large hat, with a drooping plume of feathers; her dress was very rich and dark; her fair face shone in the midst of these surroundings like an exquisite flower.
The service went on. During the prayers Maggie wept, but, when a great wave of song filled the vast building, she forgot all her sorrow; her voice rose with the other singers, clear, sweet, and high. Her soul seemed to go up on her voice, for all the sadness left her face; her eyes looked jubilant.
Prissie had never been in any place like St. Hildas before. It had been one of her dreams to go to the cathedral at Exeter, but year after year this desire of hers had been put off and put off, and this was the first time in her life that she had ever listened to cathedral music. She was impressed, delighted, but not overpowered.
The organ is magnificent, she said to herself, but not grander than the sea. The sea accompanies all the service at the dear little old church at home. People met, and talked to one another in the green quadrangle outside the chapel. Several other St. Benets girls had come to the afternoon service. Amongst them was Miss Day, and that fair, innocent-looking little girl, Rosalind Merton.
Miss Day and Miss Merton were together. They were both stepping back to join Maggie and Prissie, when a tall, dark young man came hastily forward, bowed to Rosalind Merton, and, coming up to Maggie Oliphant, shook hands with her.
I saw you in chapel, he said. Are you coming to the Marshalls to tea?
I am. Let me introduce to you my friend, Miss Peel. Miss Peel, this is Mr Hammond.
Hammond raised his hat to Prissie, said a courteous word to her, and then turned to speak again to Maggie.
The three walked through the gates of the quadrangle, and turned up the narrow, picturesque High Street. It would soon be dusk; a wintry light was over everything. Rosalind Merton and Miss Day followed behind. Maggie, who was always absorbed with the present interest,
did not heed or notice them, but Priscilla heard one or two ill-bred giggles.
She turned her head with indignation, and received scornful glances from both girls. The four met for a moment at a certain corner. Maggie said something to Annie Day, and introduced Mr Hammond to her. As she did so, Rosalind took the opportunity to come up to Priscilla and whisper to her
Youre not wanted, you know. You had much better come home with us.
What do you mean? replied Prissie in her matter-of-fact voice. Miss Oliphant has asked me to go with her to the Marshalls.
Oh, well if you care to be in the resumed Rosalind.
Maggie suddenly flashed round on her.
Come, Miss Peel, well be late, she said. Good-bye. She nodded to Rosalind; her eyes were full of an angry fire; she took Prissies hand, and hurried down the street.
The two girls walked away, still giggling; a deep colour mantled Maggies cheeks. She turned and began to talk desperately to Mr Hammond. Her tone was flippant; her silvery laughter floated in the air. Priscilla turned and gazed at her friend. She was seeing Maggie in yet another aspect. She felt bewildered.
The three presently reached a pleasant house standing in its own grounds. They were shown into a large drawing-room, full of young people. Mrs Marshall, a pretty old lady, with white hair, came forward to receive them. Maggie was swept away amid fervent embraces and handshakes to the other end of the room. Mrs Marshall saw that Priscilla looked frightened; she took her under her wing, sat down by her on a sofa, and began to talk.
Prissie answered in a sedate voice. Mrs Marshall had a very gentle manner. Prissie began to lose her shyness; she almost imagined that she was back again with Aunt Raby.
My dear, you will like us all very much, the old lady said. No life can be so absolutely delightful as that of a girl graduate at St. Benets. The freedom from care, the mixture of study with play, the pleasant social life, all combine to make young women both healthy and wise. Ah, my love, we leave out the middle of the old proverb. The girls at St. Benets are in that happy period of existence when they need give no thought to money-making.
Some are, said Prissie. She sighed, and the colour rushed into her cheeks. Mrs Marshall looked at her affectionately.
Helen, she called to her grand-daughter who was standing near, bring Miss Peel another cup of tea and some cake, Helen some of that nice cake you made yesterday. Now, my love, I insist. You dont look at all strong. You really must eat plenty.
Helen Marshall supplied Prissies wants, was introduced to her, and, standing near, joined in the talk.