Meade L. T. - A Sweet Girl Graduate стр 8.

Oh, you poor, shivering darling! Of course. Are there no matches here? There were some on the mantelpiece before dinner. No, I declare they have vanished. How careless of the maid. Ill run into Maggies room and fetch some.

Miss Banister was not a minute away. She returned with a box of matches, and, stooping down, set a light to the wood, and a pleasant fire was soon blazing and crackling merrily.

Now, isnt that better? said Nancy. Please sit down on your bed, and give me the key of your trunk. Ill soon have the things out, and put all to rights for you. Im a splendid unpacker.

But Priscilla had no desire to have her small and meagre wardrobe overhauled even by the kindest of St. Benets girls.

I will unpack presently myself, if you dont mind, she said. She felt full of gratitude, but she could not help an almost surly tone coming into her voice.

Nancy drew back, repulsed and distressed.

Perhaps you would like me to go away? she said. I will go into Maggies room, and let you know when cocoa is ready.

Thank you, said Prissie. Miss Banister disappeared, and Priscilla sat on by the fire, unconscious that she had given any pain or annoyance, thinking with gratitude of Nancy, and with feelings of love of Maggie Oliphant, and wondering what her little sisters were doing without her at home to-night.

By-and-by there came a tap at her door. Priscilla ran to open it. Miss Oliphant stood outside.

Wont you come in? said Priscilla, throwing the door wide open, and smiling with joy. It was already delightful to her to look at Maggie. Please come in, she added, in a tone almost of entreaty.

Maggie Oliphant started and turned pale. Into that room? No, no, I cant, she said in a queer voice. She rushed back to her own, leaving Priscilla standing in amazement by her open door.

There was a moments silence; then Miss Oliphants voice, rich, soft, and lazy, was heard within the shelter of her own apartment.

Please come in, Miss Peel, cocoa awaits you. Do not stand on ceremony.

Priscilla went timidly across the landing, and the next instant found herself in one of the prettiest of the students rooms at St. Benets. A few rare prints and some beautiful photogravures of well-known pictures adorned the walls. The room was crowded with knick-knacks, and rendered gay and sweet by many tall flowers in pots. A piano stood open by one of the walls, and a violin lay carelessly on a chair not far off. There were piles of new music, and some tempting, small, neatly-bound books lying about. A fire glowed on the hearth, and a little brass kettle sang merrily on the hob. The cocoa-table was drawn up in front of the fire, and on a quaintly shaped tray stood the bright little cocoa-pot, and the oddly devised cups and saucers.

Welcome to St. Benets? said Maggie, going up and taking Priscillas hand cordially within her own. Now youll have to get into this low chair, and make yourself quite at home and happy.

How snug you are here, said Prissie, her eyes brightening, and a pink colour mounting into her cheeks. She was glad that Maggie was alone; she felt more at ease with her than with anyone, but the next moment she said, with a look of apparent regret

I thought Miss Banister was in your room?

No; Nancy has gone to her own room at the end of the corridor to do some work for an hour. She will come back to say good-night. She always does. Are you sorry to have me by myself?

Indeed I am not, said Priscilla. The smile, which made her rather plain face attractive, crept slowly back to it. Maggie poured out a cup of cocoa and brought it to her, then, drawing another chair forward, she seated herself in it, sipped her own cocoa, and began to talk.

Long afterwards Priscilla remembered that talk. It was not what Maggie said, for her conversation in itself was not at all brilliant, but it was the sound of her rich, calm, rather lazy voice, the different lights which glanced and gleamed in her eyes, the dimples about her mouth, the attitude she put herself in. Maggie had a way of changing colour, too, which added to her fascinations. Sometimes the beautiful oval of her face would be almost ivory white, but then again a rosy cloud would well up and up the cheeks, and even slightly suffuse the broad, low forehead. Her face was never long the same, never more than a moment in repose; eyes, mouth, brow, even the very waves of her hair seemed to Priscilla, this first night as she sat by her hearth, to be all speech.

The girls grew cosy and confidential together. Priscilla told Maggie about her

home, a little also about her past history, and her motive in coming to St. Benets. Maggie sympathised with all the expression she was capable of. At last Priscilla bade her new friend good-night, and, rising from her luxurious chair, prepared to go back to her own room.

She had just reached the door of Maggies room, and was about to turn the handle, when a sudden thought arrested her. She came back a few steps.

May I ask you a question? she said.

Certainly, replied Miss Oliphant.