A Sweet Girl Graduate

“Of course, dear, you certainly ought. But as to Miss Peel being plain, Ida, I don’t think I quite agree with you. Her face is too clever for that. Have you watched her when she acts?”

“No, I don’t think I have. She seems to be very uninteresting.”

“Look at her next time, and tell me if you think her uninteresting afterwards. Now I’m off to find Maggie. She is sure to be having one of her bad times, poor darling.”

Constance Field was a girl whose opinion was always received with respect. Ida went off obediently to fulfil her behests; and Constance, after searching in Maggie’s room, and wandering in different parts of the grounds, found the truant at last, comfortably established with a pile of new books and magazines in the library. The library was the most comfortable room in the house, and Maggie was leaning back luxuriously in an easy-chair, reading some notes from a lecture on Aristotle aloud to Prissie, who sat at her feet, and took down notes of her own from Maggie’s lips.

The two looked up anything but gratefully when Constance approached. Miss Field, however, was not a person to be dismissed with a light and airy word, and Maggie sighed and closed her book when Constance sat down in an armchair, which she pulled close to her. There were no other girls in the library, and Prissie, seeing that Miss Field intended to be confidential, looked at Maggie with a disconsolate air.

“Perhaps I had better go up to my own room,” she said, timidly.

Maggie raised her brows, and spoke in an impatient voice.

“You are in no one’s way, Priscilla,” she said. “Here are my notes from the lecture. I read to the end of this page; you can make out the rest for yourself. Well, Constance, have you anything to say?”

“Not unless you want to hear me,” said Miss Field, in her dignified manner.

Maggie tried to stifle a yawn.

“Oh, my dear Connie, I’m always charmed, you know that.”

“Well, I thought I’d like to tell you that I admired the way you spoke last night.”

“Were you present?”

“No, but some friends of mine were. They repeated the whole thing verbatim.”

“Oh, you heard it second-hand. Highly coloured, no doubt, and not the least like its poor original.”

Maggie spoke with a kind of bitter, defiant sarcasm, and a delicate colour, came into Miss Field’s cheeks.

“At least, I heard enough to assure me that you spoke the truth and concealed nothing,” she said.

“It is the case that I spoke the truth, as far as it went; but it is not the case that I concealed nothing.”

“Well, Maggie, I have come to offer you my sincere sympathy.”

“Thank you,” said Maggie. She leant back in her chair, folded her hands, and a tired look came over her expressive face. “The fact is,” she said, suddenly, “I am sick of the whole thing. I am sorry I went; I made a public confession of my sorrow last night; now I wish to forget it.”

“How can you possibly forget it, until you know Miss Heath’s and Miss Eccleston’s decision?”

“Frankly, Constance, I don’t care what decision they come to.”

“You don’t care? You don’t mind the college authorities knowing?”

“I don’t care if every college authority in England knows. I have been humbled in the eyes of Miss Heath, whom I love; nothing else matters.”

When Maggie said these words, Prissie rose to her feet, looked at her with a queer, earnest glance, suddenly bent forward, kissed her frantically, and rushed out of the room.

“And I love that dear true-hearted child, too,” said Maggie. “Now, Constance, do let us talk of something else.”

“We’ll talk about Miss Peel. I don’t know her as you do, but I’m interested in her.”

“Oh, pray don’t; I want to keep her to myself.”

“Why? Is she such a rara avis?”

“I don’t care what she is. She suits me because she loves me without question. She is absolutely sincere; she could not say an untrue thing; she is so clever that I could not talk frivolities when I am with her; and so good, so really, simply good, that she keeps at bay my bad half-hours and my reckless moods.” Constance smiled. She believed part of Maggie’s speech; not the whole of it, for she knew the enthusiasm of the speaker.

“I am going to Kingsdene,” said Maggie suddenly. “Prissie is coming with me. Will you come, too, Constance? I wish you would.”

“Thank you,” said Constance. She hesitated for a moment. “It is the best thing in the world for Heath Hall,” she thought, “that the girls should see me walking with Maggie to-day.” Aloud she said, “All right, Maggie, I’ll go upstairs and put on my hat and jacket, and meet you and Miss Peel in the porch.”

“We are going to tea at the Marshalls’,” said Maggie. “You don’t mind that, do you? You know them, too?”

“Know them? I should think so. Isn’t old Mrs Marshall a picture? And Helen is one of my best friends.”

“You shall make Helen happy this afternoon, dear Constance.”

Maggie ran gaily out of the room as she spoke, and a few minutes later the three girls, in excellent spirits, started for Kingsdene.

As they entered the town they saw Rosalind Merton coming to meet them. There was nothing in this, for Rosalind was a gay young person, and had many friends in Kingsdene. Few days passed that did not see her in the old town on her way to visit this friend or that, or to perpetrate some little piece of extravagance at Spilman’s or at her dressmaker’s.

On this occasion, however, Rosalind was neither at Spilman’s or the dressmaker’s. She was walking demurely down the High Street, daintily dressed and charming to look at, in Hammond’s company. Rosalind was talking eagerly and earnestly, and Hammond, who was very tall, was bending down to catch her words, when the other three girls came briskly round a corner, and in full view of the pair.

“Oh!” exclaimed Priscilla aloud, in her abrupt, startled way. Her face became suffused with a flood of the deepest crimson, and Maggie, who felt a little annoyed at seeing Hammond in Rosalind’s company, could not help noticing Prissie’s almost uncontrollable agitation.

Rosalind, too, blushed, but prettily, when she saw the other three girls come up.

“I will say good-bye, now, Mr Hammond,” she said, “for I must get back to St. Benet’s in good time to-night.”

She held out her hand, which the young man took, and shook cordially.

“I am extremely obliged to you,” he said.

Maggie was near enough to hear his words. Rosalind tripped past her three fellow-students with an airy little nod, and the faint beginning of a mocking curtsy.

Hammond came up to the three girls and joined them at once.

“Are you going to the Marshalls’?” he said to Maggie.

“Yes.”

“So am I. What a lucky rencontre.”

He said another word or two, and then the four turned to walk down the High Street. Maggie walked on in front with Constance. Hammond fell to Priscilla’s share.

“I am delighted to see you again,” she said, in her eager, agitated, abrupt way.