went out intothe grounds. She saw a group of her young companions standing on thelawn. She was, on the whole, a favourite in the school, particularlywith the younger girls, for she was gentle and good-natured, oftenhelping them with their studies and sympathising with their smallsorrows. But now she avoided her companions, and going to a shrubberyat one side of the grounds, paced up and down a shady walk.
Priscilla was very ambitious, and the letter she had received was theend of everything. She was an only child. Her father was in India, hermother dead. She was left under the care of an uncle, her mother'sbrother, a rough, fairly good-natured, but utterly unsympathetic person.Priscilla's father was a clerk, with only a very small salary, in oneof the Government Houses at Madras. He could do little more thansupport himself, and Priscilla was therefore left to the care of UncleJosiah. It was he who paid for her schooling, who received her duringthe holidays, who gave her what clothes she possessed--in short, whosupplied what he considered her every want.
Occasionally she heard from her father; but by this time he had marriedagain, had one or two little children, and found it more than everimpossible to do anything for Priscilla. When he wrote he urged her tomake the most of her education, for when she was really properlyeducated she could support herself as a governess, or a coach, or amistress at one of the high schools.
Priscilla was full of ambition, and the letter which she had justreceived seemed at that moment like her death-blow.
"What am I to do?" she thought. "When I am with Uncle Josiah, he andAunt Susan will make me nothing whatever but a household drudge. Doesnot his letter--his horrid letter--say so?"
She took it out of her pocket and read the contents:
"You have had sufficient money spent on your schooling. You will beeighteen your next birthday, and surely by then you can earn yourliving. I don't want you to take a post as teacher, for by all accountsteachers are badly paid. You can stay with us for six months and learndairy-work under your aunt, and how to manage a household. There willbe plenty for a hearty lass to do in looking after the little ones andattending to the linen, and helping your aunt, whenever you have an oddminute, at making the children's clothes. If you don't turn out asuccess--and your aunt Susan will tell you that pretty smart--I willapprentice you to Miss Johnson in the village, where you can learndressmaking--a fifty times better thing, in my opinion, than teaching.We will expect you this day fortnight, and I will come to the station inthe spring-cart to meet you.--Your affectionate uncle, JosiahHenderson."
Priscilla crushed up the letter, flung it from her, and stamped on it.She was employed in this way when a voice behind caused her to turn herhead, and she saw Annie Brooke running to meet her.
"Oh Priscie, whatever is the matter? What _are_ you killing? You arestamping your foot with all your might. What poor creature has beensilly enough to offend you?"
"It is this poor creature," said Priscilla. She lifted the mangledletter and held it between her finger and thumb. "It is this horror,"she said. "I am nearly mad. If you had a future like mine hanging overyou, you would be off your head too."
"Oh, poor Priscie!" said Annie. "I do sympathise--I do really. Youruncle must be a dreadful man. Why, of course you must not leave school;you are cleverer than all the rest of us put together. Mrs Lytteltonthinks no end of you. She is prouder of you than of any other pupil shepossesses. Of course you must not go."
"It is very kind of you to be so sympathetic, Annie, replied Priscilla;person who pays for my schooling is Uncle Josiah. He has paid for itever since father went back to India, and he doesn't mean to pay anymore. He says so in this letter. He says I am to go back to help AuntSusan; and if I fail in pleasing her I am to be apprenticed to a countrydressmaker. He considers either occupation preferable to that of ateacher. So here I am, Annie, and no one can alter the state ofthings."
"But you would give anything in the world to stay, notwithstanding youruncle's letter?"
"Anything," cried Priscilla. "I said just now what is true, that Iwould give ten years of my life; I would be twenty-eight instead of justeighteen, and you know what that means--all one's youth gone."
"You must be desperately in earnest," said Annie, "if you mean that, forof course to be twenty-eight means to be quite an old maid. I do pityyou, poor Priscilla!"
Priscilla did not reply. She walked on a little faster. She wantedAnnie to leave her, but instead of doing this, Annie Brooke slipped herhand through Priscilla's arm.
"Have you written your prize essay yet?" she said.
Priscilla brought herself back to the subject of the essay with aneffort.
"Oh yes," she replied; "I finished it last night."
"I suppose it is very good?" said Annie.
"I thought it was at the time," answered Priscilla; "but where is theuse of worrying about it? Uncle Josiah wouldn't think a scrap moreabout me if I wrote the finest prize essay in the world. On thecontrary, he would be more disgusted than pleased. If I had receivedthis letter a week ago I should not have bothered about the essay. Idon't even know now that I shall compete."
"I wonder," said Annie.
"What is the matter with you, Annie?"
"I have a thought in my head, Priscie--such a funny thought. You knowMabel Lushington?"
"Why, of course."
"She is just as angry as you are. You remember you both got letters atthe same time. You read yours and told us about it. Then you left theroom. Afterwards she read hers. What do you think her letter wasabout?"
"I am afraid I neither know nor care," replied Priscilla.
"That is very selfish of you, for you ought to care. Well, I will tellyou. She has got to stay at school, whether she likes it or not."
"Lucky, lucky girl!" said Priscilla.
"But that is just the point, you old silly. She doesn't considerherself at all lucky. She hates and detests school, and wants to go;she would give all the world to go."
"And can't she?"
"No; at least there is scarcely a chance. Her aunt has subjected her toa ridiculous test. She says that if by any chance Mabel wins the firstprize in the literature competition she may leave school and join her inParis. If she does not win it, she has to stay here for another year.Mabel is nearly mad, for of course she has not a chance of the prize."
"Not a chance," said Priscilla.
"But you don't care about winning it, and you are the one who is sure todo so."
"I don't greatly care," said Priscilla. "Of course, I would rather winthan not win; that is about all."
"Suppose--suppose," said Annie--"I am not saying it could be done, and Iam not saying it is right--I am not pretending to any conscience in thematter; but--_suppose_--you and Mabel changed essays; and--suppose _you_had your dearest wish, and Mabel _her_ dearest wish--you stayed atschool for another year and Mabel went to Paris to join her aunt. Now--just suppose."
CHAPTER THREE.
TO CATCH AT A STRAW.
Priscilla's eyes, large, dark, grey, and full of feeling, opened totheir widest extent as she turned them now and fixed them on hercompanion.
"What do you mean?" she said. "Do you know that you are a horrible girlto propose anything of this sort. How dare you? I don't want to speakto you again."
"Very well, Priscilla," replied Annie, by no means offended, andspeaking in a gentle, meek little voice. "I _have_ heard of worsethings being done before, and I only meant to help you both. You areboth my greatest friends. One of you wants to stay at school; the otherwants to leave school. It can be done by such a very simple matter aschanging your essays."
"It is horrible--quite too horrible even to think about," wasPriscilla's response.
"But you said you didn't care about the prize."
"No; but I do care about honour. I am bad, but I am not as bad as allthat."
"Well," said Annie, a little frightened at Priscilla's manner and thelook on her face, "the whole thing can do me no good; I don't profit byit. I have got to
stay at school, _nolens volens_; and I think I shouldprefer Mabel as my greatest friend for the next twelve months to you.You won't say anything about it, Priscie, for that would indeed be toruin me, and I only meant to make you both happy."
"Oh, of course I won't tell," said Priscilla. "I shall be leavingschool in a fortnight, and then you won't ever see me again. I canpromise you to keep quiet with regard to this proposal of yours for thattime."
"Very well," said Annie; "then that is all right. I will tell poorMabel."
"You don't mean that you have suggested the thing to