Meade L. T. - A Sweet Girl Graduate стр 23.

I am so glad you know Miss Oliphant, said Mrs Marshall. She will make a delightful friend for you.

And isnt she lovely? said Helen Marshall. I dont think I know anyone with such a beautiful face. You ought to be very proud to have her as a friend. Arent you very proud?

No, said Prissie, I dont know that I am. I am not even sure that she is my friend.

Of course she is she wrote most affectionately of you to grandmother. You cant think how nicely she spoke. We were glad, we were delighted, because Maggie dear Maggie has had no great friends lately. Now, if you have had your tea, Miss Peel, Ill take you about the room, and introduce you to one or two people.

Priscilla rose from her seat at once, and the two girls began to move about the crowded drawing-room. Helen Marshall was very slight and graceful; she piloted Prissie here and there without disturbing anyones arrangements. At last the two girls found themselves in an immense conservatory, which opened into the drawing-room at one end.

A great many of the guests were strolling about here. Priscillas eyes sparkled at the sight of the lovely flowers. She forgot herself, and made eager exclamations of ecstasy. Helen, who up to now had thought her a dull sort of girl, began to take an interest in her.

Ill take you into our fern-house, which is just beyond here, she said. We have got such exquisite maidenhairs, and such a splendid Killarney fern. Come; you shall see.

The fern-house seemed to be deserted. Helen opened the door first, and ran forward. Prissie followed. The fern-house was not large; they had almost reached the end when a girl stood up suddenly, and confronted them. The girl was Maggie Oliphant. She was sitting there alone. Her face was absolutely colourless, and tears were lying wet on her eyelashes.

Maggie made a swift remark, a passing jest, and hurried past the two into the outer conservatory.

Priscilla could scarcely tell why, but at that moment she lost all interest in both ferns and flowers.

The look of misery on Maggies face seemed to strike her own heart like a chill.

You look tired, said Helen Marshall, who had not noticed Maggies tearful eyes.

Perhaps I am, answered Prissie.

They went back again into the drawing-room. Prissie still could see nothing but Miss Oliphants eyes, and the look of distress on her pale face.

Helen suddenly made a remark.

Was there ever such a merry creature as Maggie? she said. Do look at her now.

Prissie raised her eyes. Miss Oliphant was the centre of a gay group, among whom Geoffrey Hammond stood. Her laugh rang out clear and joyous; her smile was like sunshine, her cheeks had roses in them, and her eyes were as bright as stars.

Chapter Eleven Conspirators

Well, said Annie, you are a humbug, Rose! What a story you told me about Mr Hammond how he looked at you, and was so anxious to make use of you. Oh, you know all you said. You told me a charming story about your position as gooseberry. You expected a little fun for yourself, didnt you, my friend? Well, it seems to me that if anyone is to have the fun, it is Priscilla Peel.

Rosalind had rather a nervous manner. She bit her lips now; her baby-blue eyes looked angry, her innocent face wore a frown. She dropped her hold of Annie Days arm.

Miss Day was one of the most commonplace girls at Heath Hall. She had neither good looks nor talent; she had no refinement of nature, nor had she those rugged but sterling qualities of honesty and integrity of purpose which go far to cover a multitude of other defects.

I wish you wouldnt speak to me in that way, said Rosalind, with a little gasp. I hate people to laugh at me, and I cant stand sneers.

Oh, no! youre such a dear little innocent baby. Of course, I can quite understand. And does she suppose Ill ruffle her pretty little feathers? No, not I. Id rather invent a new cradle song for you, Rosie, dear.

Dont, dont! said Rosalind. Look here, Annie, I must say something yes, I must. I hate Maggie Oliphant!

You hate Miss Oliphant? Annie Day stood still, turned round, and stared at her companion. When did this revolution take place, my dear? What about Rose and Maggie sitting side by side at dinner? And Rose creeping away all by herself to Maggies room, and angling for an invitation to cocoa, and trying hard, very hard, to become a member of the Dramatic Society, just because Maggie acts so splendidly. Has it not been Maggie Maggie ever since the term began, until we girls, who were not in love with this quite too charming piece of perfection, absolutely hated the sound of her name? Oh, Rose, what a fickle baby you are. I am ashamed of you!

Dont! said Rose, again. She linked her hand half timidly in Miss Days arm. Miss Day was almost a head and shoulders above the little, delicate, fairy-like creature. I suppose I cant help changing my mind, she said. I did love Maggie, of course I loved her she fascinated me; but I dont care for her no, I hate her now!

How vehemently you pronounce that naughty word, my fair Rosalind. You must give me some reasons for this grievous change in your feelings.