A Sweet Girl Graduate

“Why, of course. I’m delighted to see you. How kind of you to come. Where will you sit? I’m afraid you won’t find things very comfortable, for most of my furniture is gone. But there’s the bed; do you mind sitting on the bed?”

“If I want to sit at all the bed is as snug a place as any,” replied Maggie. “But I’m not going to stay a moment, for it is very late. See, I have brought you this back.”

Polly looked, and for the first time observed that her own sealskin jacket hung on Maggie’s arm.

“What do you mean?” she said. “My sealskin jacket! Oh, my beauty! But it isn’t mine, it’s yours now. Why do you worry me – showing it to me again?”

“I don’t want to worry you, Miss Singleton. I mean what I say. I have brought your jacket back.”

“But it is yours – you bought it.”

“I gave a nominal price for it, but that doesn’t make it mine. Anyhow, I have no use for it. Please take it back again.”

Poor Polly blushed very red all over her face.

“I wish I could,” she said. “If there has been anything I regretted in the auction, besides getting all you girls into a mess, it has been my sealskin jacket. Dad is almost certain to ask me about it, for he never made me such a handsome present before. Poor dad! he was so proud the night he brought it home. He said, ‘Look here, Poll, I paid a whole sheaf of fivers for this, and although it cost me a good round eighty guineas, I’m told it’s cheap at the price. Put it on, and let me see how you look in it,’ he said. And when I had it on he twisted me round, and chucked me under the chin, and said I was ‘a bouncer.’ Poor old dad! He was as proud as Punch of me in that jacket I never saw anything like it.”

“Well, he can be as proud as Punch of you again. Here is the jacket for your very own once more. Good-night.”

She walked to the door, but Miss Singleton ran after her.

“I can’t take it back,” she said. “I’m not as mean as all that comes to. It’s yours now; you got it as fair as possible.”

“Listen, Miss Singleton,” said Maggie. “If I keep that jacket I shall never wear it. I detest sealskin jackets. It won’t be the least scrap of use to me.”

“You detest sealskin jackets? How can you? Oh, the lovely things they are. Let me stroke the beauty down.”

“Stroke your beauty, and pet it as much as you like, only let me say ‘Good-night,’ now.”

“But, please, Miss Oliphant, please, I’d do anything in the world to get the jacket back, of course. But I’ve ten guineas of yours, and honestly, I can’t pay them back.”

“Allow me to lend them to you until next term. You can return me the money then, can you not?” Polly’s face became on the instant a show of shining eyes, gleaming white teeth, and glowing cheeks.

“Of course I could pay you back, you —darling,” she said with enthusiasm. “Oh, what a relief this is to me; I’d have done anything in all the world to have my jacket back again.”

“It’s a bargain, then. Good-night, Miss Singleton.”

Maggie tossed the jacket on Polly’s bed, touched her hand lightly with one of her own, and left the room. She went quickly back to her own pretty sitting-room, locked her door, threw herself on her knees by her bureau, and sobbed long and passionately.

During the few days which now remained before the end of the term no one quite knew what was wrong with Miss Oliphant. She worked hard in preparation for her lectures, and when seen in public was always very merry. But there was a certain hardness about her mirth which her best friends detected, and which caused Nancy Banister a good deal of puzzled pain.

Priscilla was treated very kindly by Maggie; she still helped her willingly with her Greek, and even invited her into her room once or twice. But all the little half-beginnings of confidence which, now and then, used to burst from Maggie’s lips, the allusions to old times, the sentences which revealed deep thoughts and high aspirations, all these, which made the essence of true friendship, vanished out of her conversation.

Priscilla said to herself over and over that there was really no difference – that Miss Oliphant was still as kind to her, as valued a friend as ever – but in her heart she knew that this was not the case.

Maggie startled all her friends by making one request. Might they postpone the acting of The Princess until the middle of the following term?

“I cannot do it justice now,” she said. “I cannot throw my heart and soul into my part. If you act the play now you must allow me to withdraw.”

The other girls, Constance Field in particular, were astonished. They even felt resentful. All arrangements had been made for this especial play. Maggie was to be the Princess herself; no one could possibly take her place. It was most unreasonable of her to withdraw now.

But it was one of the facts well-known at St. Benet’s that, fascinating as Miss Oliphant was, she was also unreasonable. On certain occasions she could even be disobliging. In short, when Maggie “took the bit between her teeth,” to employ an old metaphor, she could neither be led nor driven. After a great deal of heated discussion and indignant words, she had her will. The play was deferred till the following term, and one or two slight comedies, which had been acted before, were revived in a hurry to take its place.

Chapter Twenty Two

A Black Satin Jacket

Very active preparations were being made in a certain rather humble little cottage in the country for the heroine’s return. Three small girls were making themselves busy with holly and ivy, with badly-cut paper flowers, with enormous texts coarsely illustrated, to render the home gay and festive in its greeting. A little worn old woman lay on a sofa, and superintended these active measures.

“How soon will she be here now?” said Hattie the vigorous.

“Do stay still, Hattie, and don’t fidget. Don’t you see how tired Aunt Raby looks?” exclaimed Rose. “Prissie can’t be here yet, and you are such a worry when you jump up and down like that, Hattie.”

Rose’s words were quite severe, and Hattie planted herself on the edge of a chair, folded her plump hands, managed to get a demure look into her laughing eyes and dimpled mouth, and sat motionless for about half a minute. At the end of that time she tumbled on the floor with a loud crash, and Aunt Raby sprang to her feet with some alarm.

“Good gracious, child! are you hurt? What’s the matter?”

Hattie was sitting on the floor in convulsions of mirth.

“I’m not hurt,” she exclaimed. “I slipped off the chair. I didn’t mean to; I couldn’t help it, really. I’m sorry I woke you, Aunt Raby.”

“I wasn’t asleep, child.” Miss Peel walked across the room, and vanished into the kitchen, from which very savoury smells issued.

Hattie and Rose began to quarrel and argue, and Katie, who was more or less of a little peacemaker, suggested that they should draw up the blind, and all three get into the window to watch for Prissie.

“I wonder how she will look?” said Rose, when they were all comfortably established.

“I hope she won’t talk in Latin,” exclaimed Hattie.

“Oh, it is nice to think of seeing Prissie so soon,” murmured Katie in an ecstasy.

“I wonder,” began Rose in her practical voice, “how soon Prissie will begin to earn money. We want money even more than when she went away. Aunt Raby isn’t as well as she was then, and since the cows were sold – ”

“Hush!” said Hattie. “You know we promised we wouldn’t tell Prissie about the cows.”

Just then a distant sound of wheels was heard. The little girls began to jump and shout; a moment later and Priscilla stood in the midst of her family. A great excitement followed her arrival. There were kisses and hugs, and wild, rapturous words from the affectionate little sisters. Aunt Raby put her arms round Priscilla, and gave her a solemn sort of kiss, and then the whole party adjourned into the supper-room.

The feast which was spread was so dainty and abundant that Katie asked in a puzzled sort of way if Aunt Raby considered Prissie like the Prodigal Son.

“What fancies you have, child!” said Aunt Raby. “The Prodigal Son, indeed! Thank Heaven, I’ve never had to do with that sort! As to Priscilla here, she’s as steady as Old Time. Well, child, and are you getting up your learning very fast?”

“Pretty well, Aunt Raby.”

“And you like your grand college, and all those fine young-lady friends of yours?”

“I haven’t any fine young-lady friends.”

“H’m! I daresay they are like other girls; a little bit of learning, and a great deal of dress, eh?” Priscilla coloured.