by L. T. Meade
Peel? Miss Peel,this is my very great and special friend and chum, Meta Elliot-Smith."
"Oh, you charming darling!" said Meta, giving Rose a fresh hug, andglancing in a supercilious but friendly way at Prissie.
"We came to inquire for your mother, dear Meta," said Rose, in a demuretone. "Is she any better?"
"Yes, my dear darling, she's much better." Meta's eyes flashedinterrogation into Rose's: Rose's returned back glances, which spokewhole volumes of meaning.
"Look here," said Meta Elliot-Smith, "now that you two dear, preciousgirls have come, you mustn't go away. Oh, no, I couldn't hear of it. Ihave perfect oceans to say to you, Rose--and it is absolutely centuriessince we have met. Off with your waterproof, and up you come to thedrawing-room for a cup of tea. One or two friends are dropping inpresently, and the Beechers and one or two more are upstairs now. Youknow the Beechers, don't you, Rosalind? Here, Miss Peel, let me helpyou to unburden yourself. Little Rose is so nimble in her ways that shedoesn't need any assistance."
"Oh, but indeed I can't stay," said Prissie. "It is quite impossible!You know, Miss Merton, it is impossible. We are due at St Benet's now.We ought to be going back at once."
Rosalind Merton's only answer was to slip off her waterproof cloak, andstand arrayed in a fascinating toilet of silk and lace--a little toodressy, perhaps, even for an afternoon party at Kingsdene, but vastlybecoming to its small wearer.
Priscilla opened her eyes wide as she gazed at her companion. She sawat once that she had been entrapped into her present false position, andthat Rosalind's real object in coming to Kingsdene was not to pay herdressmaker, but to visit the Elliot-Smiths.
"I can't possibly stay," she said in a cold, angry voice. "I must goback to St Benet's at once."
She began to button up her waterproof as fast as Miss Elliot-Smith wasunbuttoning it.
"Nonsense, you silly old dear!" said Rosalind, who, having gained herway, was now in the best of spirits. "You mustn't listen to her, Meta;she studies a great deal too hard, and a little relaxation will do herall the good in the world. My dear Miss Peel, you can't be so rude asto refuse a cup of tea, and I know I shall catch an awful cold if Idon't have one. Do come upstairs for half an hour; _do_, there's a dearPrissie!"
Priscilla hesitated. She had no knowledge of so-called "society." Herinstincts told her it was very wrong to humour Rose. She disliked MissElliot-Smith, and felt wild at the trick which had been played on her.Nevertheless, on an occasion of this kind, she was no match for Rose,who knew perfectly what she was about, and stood smiling and prettybefore her.
"Just for a few moments," said Rosalind, coming up and whispering toher. "I really won't keep you long. You _will_ just oblige me for afew minutes."
"Well, but I'm not fit to be seen in this old dress?" whispered backpoor Prissie.
"Oh, yes, you are; you're not bad at all, and I am sure Meta will findyou a secluded corner if you want it--won't you, Meta?"
"Yes, of course, if Miss Peel wants it," answered Meta. "But she looksall right, so deliciously quaint--I simply _adore_ quaint people! Quitethe sweet girl graduate, I do declare. You don't at all answer to the_role_, you naughty Rosalind?"
So Prissie, in her ill-made brown dress, her shabbiest hat, and hermuddy boots, had to follow in the wake of Rosalind Merton and herfriend. At first she had been too angry to think much about her attire,but she was painfully conscious of it when she entered a crowdeddrawing-room, where everyone else was in suitable afternoon toilet. Shewas glad to shrink away out of sight into the most remote corner shecould find; her muddy boots were pushed far in under her chair, andhidden as much as possible by her rather short dress; her checks burntunbecomingly; she felt miserable, self-conscious, ill at ease, and verycross with everyone. It was in vain for poor Priscilla to whisper toherself that Greek and Latin were glorious and great, and dress andfashion were things of no moment whatever. At this instant she knew alltoo well that dress and fashion were reigning supreme.
Meta Elliot-Smith was effusive, loud, and vulgar, but she was alsogood-natured. She admired Rosalind, but in her heart of hearts shethought that her friend had played Prissie a very shabby trick. Shebrought Prissie some tea, therefore, and stood for a moment or two byher side, trying to make things a little more comfortable for her.Someone soon claimed her attention, however, and poor Prissie foundherself alone.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
IN THE ELLIOT-SMITHS' DRAWING-ROOM.
The fun and talk rose fast and furious. More and more guests arrived;the large drawing-rooms were soon almost as full as they could hold.Priscilla, from her corner, half-hidden by a sheltering window curtain,looked in vain for Rosalind. Where had she hidden herself? When werethey going away? Surely Rosalind would come to fetch her soon? Theyhad to walk home and be ready for dinner.
Dinner at St Benet's was at half-past six, and Prissie reflected with agreat sensation of thankfulness that Rosalind and she must go back ingood time for this meal, as it was one of the rules of the college thatno girl should absent herself from late dinner without gettingpermission from the Principal.
Prissie looked in agony at the clock which stood on a mantelpiece notfar from where she had ensconced herself. Presently it struck five; noone heard its silver note in the babel of sound, but Priscilla watchedits slowly moving hands in an agony.
Rose must come to fetch her presently. Prissie knew--she reflected toher horror that she had not the moral courage to walk about thosedrawing-rooms hunting for Rose.
Two or three exquisitely dressed but frivolous-looking women stood in agroup not far from the window where Priscilla sat forlorn. They talkedabout the cut of their mantles, and the price they had given for theirnew winter bonnets. Their shrill laughter reached Prissie's ears, alsotheir words. They complimented one another, but talked scandal of theirneighbours. They called somebody--who, Prissie could not imagine--"acertain lady," and spoke of how she was angling to get a footing insociety, and how the good set at Kingsdene would certainly never haveanything to do with her or hers.
"She's taking up those wretched girl graduates," said one of thesegossips to her neighbour. Then her eye fell upon Prissie. She said"Hush!" in an audible tone, and the little party moved away out ofearshot.
The minute hand of the clock on the mantelpiece pointed to nearlyhalf-past five. Poor Prissie felt her miseries grow almost intolerable.Tears of mortification and anguish were forcing themselves to her eyes.She felt that, in addition to having lost so many hours of study, shewould get into a serious scrape at St Benet's for breaking one of theknown rules of the college.
At this moment a quiet voice said, "How do you do?"
She raised her tearful eyes. Geoffrey Hammond was standing by her side.He gave her a kind glance, shook hands with her, and stood by herwindow uttering commonplaces until Priscilla had recovered herself-possession. Then, dropping into a chair near, he said, abruptly--
"I saw you from the other end of the room. I was surprised. I did notsuppose you knew our hostess."
"Nor do I really," said Prissie, with sudden vehemence. "Oh, it's ashame!" she added, her face reddening up woefully; "I have beenentrapped!"
"You must not let the people who are near us hear you say words of thatkind," said Hammond; "they will crowd around to hear your story. Now, Iwant it all to myself. Do you think you can tell it to me in a lowvoice?"
To poor Hammond's horror Prissie began to whisper.
"I beg your pardon," he said, interrupting her, "but do you know thatthe buzzing noise caused by a whisper carries sound a long way? That isa well authenticated fact. Now, if you will try to speak low."
"Oh, thank you; yes, I will," said Prissie. She began a garbled accountHammond looked at her face and guessed the truth. The miseries of herpresent position were depriving the poor girl of the full use of herintellect. At last he ascertained that Priscilla's all-absorbingpresent anxiety was to be in time for the half-past six dinner at StBenet's.
"I kno
w we'll be late," she said, "and I'll have broken the rules, andMiss Heath will be so much annoyed with me."
Hammond volunteered to look for Miss Merton.
"Oh, thank you," said Prissie, the tears springing to her eyes. "Howvery, very kind you are."
"Please don't speak of it," said Hammond. "Stay where you are. I'llsoon bring the young truant to your side."
He began to move about the drawing-rooms, and Prissie from herhiding-place watched him with a world of gratitude in her face. "Talkof my stirring from this corner," she said to herself, "why, I feelglued to the spot!
