A Sweet Girl Graduate

standing, feeling utterly shy and miserable.From time to time other girls came in; they nodded to her, and thenrushed upon their companions. The eager talk began afresh, and alwaysthere were looks of regret, and allusions, accompanied by sighs, to thegirl who had lived in the room last.

  "Well," said one merry little girl, who was spoken to by the others asAda Hardy, "I have no doubt that by-and-by, when Miss--" She glancedtowards Priscilla.

  "Peel," faltered Priscilla.

  "When Miss Peel unpacks her trunk, she'll make the room look verypretty, too."

  "She can't," said Miss Day, in a tragic voice; "she never could make theroom look as it used to--not if she was to live till the age ofMethuselah. Of course you'll improve it, Miss Peel; you couldn'tpossibly exist in it as it is now."

  "I can tell you of a capital shop in Kingsdene, Miss Peel," said MissMarsh, "where you can buy tables and chairs, and pretty artistic cloths,and little whatnots of all descriptions. I'd advise you to go toRigg's! he's in the High Street, Number 48."

  "But Spilman has much the most _recherche_ articles, you know, Lucy,"interposed Miss Day. "I'll walk over to Spilman's to-morrow with you,if you like, Miss Peel."

  Before Priscilla had time to reply there was again a knock at the door,and this time Nancy Banister, looking flushed and pretty, came in.

  She took in the scene at a glance: numbers of girls making themselves athome in Priscilla's room, some seated on her trunk, some on her bureau,several curled up in comfortable attitudes on her bed, and she herselfstanding, meek, awkward, depressed, near one of the windows.

  "How tired you look, Miss Peel!" said Nancy Banister.

  Priscilla smiled gratefully at her.

  "And your trunk is not unpacked yet?"

  "Oh! there is time enough," faltered Priscilla.

  "Are we in your way?" suddenly spoke Miss Marsh, springing to her feet."Good-night. My name is Marsh, my room is thirty-eight."

  She swung herself lazily and carelessly out of the room, followed, atlonger or shorter intervals, by the other girls, who all nodded toPriscilla, told her their names, and one or two the numbers of theirrooms. At last she was left alone with Nancy Banister.

  "Poor thing! How tired and white you look!" said Nancy. "But now thatdreadful martyrdom is over, you shall have a real cosy time. Don't youwant a nice hot cup of cocoa? It will be ready in a minute or two. Andplease may I help you to unpack?"

  "Thank you," said Priscilla; her teeth were chattering. "If I mighthave a fire?" she asked suddenly.

  "Oh, you poor, shivering darling! Of course. Are there no matcheshere? There were some on the mantelpiece before dinner. No, I declarethey have vanished. How careless of the maid. I'll run into Maggie'sroom and fetch some."

  Miss Banister was not a minute away. She returned with a box ofmatches, and, stooping down, set a light to the wood, and a pleasantfire was soon blazing and crackling merrily.

  "Now, isn't that better?" said Nancy. "Please sit down on your bed, andgive me the key of your trunk. I'll soon have the things out, and putall to rights for you. I'm a splendid unpacker."

  But Priscilla had no desire to have her small and meagre wardrobeoverhauled even by the kindest of St Benet's girls.

  "I will unpack presently myself, if you don't mind," she said. She feltfull of gratitude, but she could not help an almost surly tone cominginto her voice.

  Nancy drew back, repulsed and distressed.

  "Perhaps you would like me to go away?" she said. "I will go intoMaggie's room, and let you know when cocoa is ready."

  "Thank you," said Prissie. Miss Banister disappeared, and Priscilla saton by the fire, unconscious that she had given any pain or annoyance,thinking with gratitude of Nancy, and with feelings of love of MaggieOliphant, and wondering what her little sisters were doing without herat home to-night.

  By-and-by there came a tap at her door. Priscilla ran to open it. MissOliphant stood outside.

  "Won't you come in?" said Priscilla, throwing the door wide open, andsmiling with joy. It was already delightful to her to look at Maggie."Please come in," she added, in a tone almost of entreaty.

  Maggie Oliphant started and turned pale. "Into that room? No, no, Ican't," she said in a queer voice. She rushed back to her own, leavingPriscilla standing in amazement by her open door.

  There was a moment's silence; then Miss Oliphant's voice, rich, soft,and lazy, was heard within the shelter of her own apartment.

  "Please come in, Miss Peel, cocoa awaits you. Do not stand onceremony."

  Priscilla went timidly across the landing, and the next instant foundherself in one of the prettiest of the students' rooms at St Benet's.A few rare prints and some beautiful photogravures of well-knownpictures adorned the walls. The room was crowded with knick-knacks, andrendered gay and sweet by many tall flowers in pots. A piano stood openby one of the walls, and a violin lay carelessly on a chair not far off.There were piles of new music, and some tempting, small, neatly-boundbooks lying about. A fire glowed on the hearth, and a little brasskettle sang merrily on the hob. The cocoa-table was drawn up in frontof the fire, and on a quaintly shaped tray stood the bright littlecocoa-pot, and the oddly devised cups and saucers.

  "Welcome to St Benet's?" said Maggie, going up and taking Priscilla'shand cordially within her own. "Now you'll have to get into this lowchair, and make yourself quite at home and happy."

  "How snug you are here," said Prissie, her eyes brightening, and a pinkcolour mounting into her cheeks. She was glad that Maggie was alone;she felt more at ease with her than with anyone, but the next moment shesaid, with a look of apparent regret--

  "I thought Miss Banister was in your room?"

  "No; Nancy has gone to her own room at the end of the corridor to dosome work for an hour. She will come back to say good-night. Shealways does. Are you sorry to have me by myself?"

  "Indeed I am not," said Priscilla. The smile, which made her ratherplain face attractive, crept slowly back to it. Maggie poured out a cupof cocoa and brought it to her, then, drawing another chair forward, sheseated herself in it, sipped her own cocoa, and began to talk.

  Long afterwards Priscilla remembered that talk. It was not what Maggiesaid, for her conversation in itself was not at all brilliant, but itwas the sound of her rich, calm, rather lazy voice, the different lightswhich glanced and gleamed in her eyes, the dimples about her mouth, theattitude she put herself in. Maggie had a way of changing colour, too,which added to her fascinations. Sometimes the beautiful oval of herface would be almost ivory white, but then again a rosy cloud would wellup and up the cheeks, and even slightly suffuse the broad, low forehead.Her face was never long the same, never more than a moment in repose;eyes, mouth, brow, even the very waves of her hair seemed to Priscilla,this first night as she sat by her hearth, to be all speech.

  The girls grew cosy and confidential together. Priscilla told Maggieabout her home, a little also about her past history, and her motive incoming to St Benet's. Maggie sympathised with all the expression shewas capable of. At last Priscilla bade her new friend good-night, and,rising from her luxurious chair, prepared to go back to her own room.

  She had just reached the door of Maggie's room, and was about to turnthe handle, when a sudden thought arrested her. She came back a fewsteps.

  "May I ask you a question?" she said.

  "Certainly," replied Miss Oliphant.

  "Who is the girl who used to live in my room? Annabel Lee, the othergirls call her. Who is she? What is there remarkable about her?"

  To Priscilla's astonishment Maggie started a step forward, her eyesblazed with an expression which was half frightened--half angry. Sheinterlocked one soft hand inside the other, her face grew white, hard,and strained.

  "You must not ask me about Annabel Lee," she said in a whisper, "for I--I can tell you nothing about her. I can _never_ tell you about her--never."

  Then she rushed to her sofa-bed, flung herself upon it face downwards,and burst into que
er, silent, distressful tears.

  Someone touched Priscilla softly on her shoulder.

  "Let me take you to your room, Miss Peel," said Nancy Banister. "Don'ttake any notice of Maggie; she will be all right by-and-by."

  Nancy took Priscilla's hand, and walked with her across the corridor.

  "I am so sorry I said anything to hurt Miss Oliphant," said Priscilla.

  "Oh, you were not to blame. You could not know any better. Of course,now that you do know, you will never do it again."

  "But I don't know anything now. Please will _you_ tell me who AnnabelLee