Oh, my awful muddy boots. I daren't even think ofthem. Now I do hope Mr Hammond will find Miss Merton quickly. Howkind he is! I wonder Maggie does not care for him as much as he caresfor her. I do not feel half as shy with him as I do with everyone elsein this dreadful--dreadful room. Oh, I do trust he'll soon come back,and bring Miss Merton with him. Then, if we run all the way, we may,perhaps, be in time for dinner."
Hammond was absent about ten minutes; they seemed like so many hours toanxious Prissie. To her horror she saw him returning alone, and now sheso far forgot her muddy boots as to run two or three steps to meet him.She knocked over a footstool as she did so, and one or two people lookedround, and shrugged their shoulders at the poor _gauche_ girl.
"Where is she?" exclaimed Prissie, again speaking in a loud voice. "Oh,haven't you brought her? What shall I do?"
"It's all right, I assure you, Miss Peel. Let me conduct you back tothat snug seat in the window. I have seen Miss Merton, and she says youare to make yourself happy. She asked Miss Heath's permission for youboth to be absent from dinner to-day."
"She did? I never heard of anything so outrageous. _I_ won't stay. Ishall go away at once."
"Had you not better just think calmly over it? If you return to StBenet's without Miss Merton, you will get her into a scrape."
"Do you think I care for that? Oh, she has behaved disgracefully! Shehas told Miss Heath a lie. I shall explain matters the very moment I goback."
Priscilla was not often in a passion, but she felt in one now. She losther shyness, and her voice rose without constraint.
"I am not supposed to know the ways of society," she said, "but I don'tthink I want to know much about this sort of society." And she got up,prepared to leave the room.
The ladies, who had been gossiping at her side, turned at the sound ofher agitation. They saw a plain, badly-dressed girl, with a frockconveniently short for the muddy streets, but by no means in tone withher present elegant surroundings, standing up and contradicting, or atleast appearing to contradict, Geoffrey Hammond, one of the best knownmen at St Hilda's, a Senior Wrangler, too. What did this _gauche_ girlmean? Most people were deferential to Hammond, but she seemed to bescolding him.
Prissie for the time being became more interesting even than the winterfashions. The ladies drew a step or two nearer to enjoy the littlecomedy.
Priscilla noticed no one, but Hammond felt these good ladies in the air.His checks burned, and he wished himself well out of his presentposition.
"If you will sit down, Miss Peel," he said, in a low, firm voice, "Ithink I can give you good reasons for not rushing away in this headlongfashion."
"Well, what are they?" said Prissie. Hammond's voice had a sufficientlycompelling power to make her sit down once more on her window-ledge.
"Don't you think," he said, seating himself in front of her, "that wemay as well keep this discussion to ourselves?"
"Oh, yes; was I speaking too loud? I wouldn't vex _you_ for anything."
"Pardon me; you are still speaking a little loud."
"Oh!" Poor Prissie fell back, her face crimson. "Please say anythingyou wish," she presently piped in a voice as low as a little mouse mighthave used.
"What I have to say is simply this," said Hammond: "You will gainnothing now by rushing off to St Benet's. However hard you struggle,you cannot get there in time for dinner. Would it not be best, then, toremain here quietly until Miss Merton asks you to accompany her back tothe college? Then, of course, it will remain with you to pay her out inany way you think well."
"Thank you; perhaps that is best. It is quite hopeless now to think ofgetting back in time for dinner. I only hope Miss Merton won't keep mewaiting very long, for it is very, very dull sitting here, and seeingpeople staring at you."
"I would not look at them if I were you, Miss Peel; and, if you willpermit me, I shall be only too pleased to keep you company."
"Oh, thank you," said Prissie. "Then I sha'n't mind staying at all."
The next half-hour seemed to pass on the wings of the wind.
Priscilla was engaged in an animated discussion with Hammond on therelative attractions of the "Iliad" and the "Odyssey;" her opiniondiffered from his, and she was well able to hold her ground. Her facewas now both eloquent and attractive, her eyes were bright, her wordsterse and epigrammatic. She looked so different a girl from the cowedand miserable little Prissie of an hour ago that Rosalind Merton, as shecame up and tapped her on the shoulder, felt a pang of envy.
"I am sorry to interrupt you," she said, "but it is time for us to begoing home. Have you given Mr Hammond his message?"
"What do you mean?" asked Priscilla. "I have not any message for MrHammond."
"You must have forgotten. Did not Miss Oliphant give you a letter forhim?"
"Certainly not. What do you mean?"
"I felt sure I saw her," said Rosalind. "I suppose I was mistaken.Well, sorry as I am to interrupt a pleasant talk, I fear I must ask youto come home with me now."
She raised her pretty baby eyes to Hammond's face as she spoke. Heabsolutely scowled down at her, shook hands warmly with Priscilla, andturned away.
"Come and bid Mrs Elliot-Smith good-bye," said Rosalind, her eyes stilldancing. "She is at the other end of the drawing-room; come, you canfollow me."
"How disgracefully you have behaved, Miss Merton!" began Priscilla atonce. "You cannot expect me ever to speak to you again, and I shallcertainly tell Miss Heath."
They were walking across the crowded drawing-room now. Rosalind turned,and let her laughing eyes look full at Prissie.
"My dear Miss Peel, pray reserve any little scolding you intend tobestow upon me until we get out into the street, and please do not treadupon my dress!"
CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
POLLY SINGLETON.
Miss Day was having quite a large party for cocoa in her room. She hadinvited not only her own chosen friends from Heath Hall, but also two orthree congenial spirits from Katharine Hall. Five or six merry-lookinggirls were now assembled in her room. Miss Day's room was one of thelargest in the college; it was showily furnished, with an intention toproduce a Japanese effect. Several paper lanterns hung from theceiling, and were suspended to wire supports, which were fastened todifferent articles of furniture.
In honour of Miss Day's cocoa, the lanterns were all lit now, and theeffect, on fans and pictures and on brilliant bits of colour, wasgrotesque and almost _bizarre_.
Miss Day thought her room lovely. It was dazzling, but the reverse ofreposeful.
The girls were lounging about, chatting and laughing; they were having agood time, and were absolutely at their case. One, a red-haired girl,with frank, open blue eyes, and a freckled face, an inmate of KatharineHall, was sending her companions into fits of laughter.
"Yes," she was saying, in a high, gay voice, "I'm not a bit ashamed ofit; there's never the least use in not owning the truth. I'm used up,girls: I haven't a penny piece to bless myself with, and this lettercame from Spilman to-night. Spilman says he'll see Miss Eccleston if Idon't pay up. Madame Clarice wrote two nights ago declaring _her_intention of visiting Miss Eccleston if I didn't send her some money. Ishall have no money until next term. There's a state of affairs!"
"What do you mean to do, Polly?" asked Lucy Marsh, in a sympathisingtone.
"Do? My dear creature, there's only one thing to be done. I must havean auction on the quiet I shall sell my worldly all. I can buy thingsagain, you know, after dad sends me his next allowance."
"Oh, Polly, but you cannot really mean it!" Miss Marsh, Miss Day, andtwo or three more crowded round Polly Singleton as they spoke.
"You can't mean to have an auction," began Miss Day; "no one ever heardof such a thing at St Benet's. Why, it would be simply disgraceful!"
"No, it wouldn't--don't turn cross, Annie. I'll have an auction first,and then a great feed in the empty room. I can go on tick for the feed;Jones, the confectioner, knows better than not to oblig
e me. He's notlike that horrid Spilman and that mean Madame Clarice."
"But, Polly, if you write to your father, he'll be sure to send you whatyou want to clear off those two debts. You have often told us he haslots of money."
"My dears, he has more tin than he knows what to do with; but do youthink I am going to have the poor old dear worried? When I was cominghere he said, `Polly, you shall have thirty pounds every term to spendas pocket-money; not a penny more, not a penny less. And you must keepout of debt on it; mind that, Polly Singleton.' I gave the dear old dada