"I should think very little of myself if I did not despise a girl like
Miss Oliphant. Is it likely I should care to imitate one whom I
despise? There was a brief, dreadful hour when I absolutely pined to
have pretty things in my room as she has in hers; now I can do without
them. My room shall remain bare and unadorned. In this state it will
at least look unique."
It did. The other students who lived in the same corridor came to visit
Priscilla in the free and easy manner which characterised them, and made
remarks the reverse of flattering. When _was_ she going to put her
pictures up? Miss Day would be delighted to help her whenever she chose
to do it. When did she intend to go down to Kingsdene to order her
easy-chairs and little Japanese tables, and rugs, and the other small
but necessary articles which would be required to make her room
habitable?
For several days Priscilla turned these inquiries aside. She blushed,
stammered, looked awkward, and spoke of something else. At last,
however, she summoned up courage, and, once for all, delivered herself
from her tormentors. She did that remarkably brave thing which
sometimes very nervous people can brace themselves to do.
It was evening, and Miss Day, Miss Marsh, and Nancy Banister had all
come in for a few minutes to see Priscilla on their way to their own
rooms.
"Do come and cocoa with me to-night, Miss Peel," said Miss Day. "You're
so dreadfully unsociable, not a bit like an ordinary St Benet's girl.
If you go on in this fashion you'll be moped to death before your first
term is over."
"I am accustomed to a very quiet life," responded Priscilla, "and I want
to work; I have come here to work."
"Dear, dear! anyone would suppose you were going in for a tripos. If
this were your last term I could understand it--but your first!"
It was Miss Marsh who said these words. She was a bright-eyed,
merry-looking girl, the reverse of over-studious herself.
"Oh, come along, dear: I'll give you such a delicious cup of cocoa,"
said Miss Day.
She crossed the room, and tried to link her hand affectionately in
Prissie's arm. Miss Peel drew back a step.
"Thank you," she said, "but I--I--cannot come."
"I must say you have a blunt way of refusing," said Miss Day. She felt
inclined to be offended, but Nancy Banister, who was standing by, and
had not hitherto spoken, bestowed a quick glance of approval on
Priscilla, and then said something soothing to Miss Day.
"May I cocoa with you instead, Annie?" she said. "I am afraid no one
can accuse me of killing myself with work, but we all respect earnest
workers--we must. It is for them St Benet's is really meant. It was
endowed for them, and built for them, and we poor drones must not throw
disparaging remarks on the busy bees."
"Oh, nonsense!" said Miss Marsh; "St Benet's was made for sociability
as well as study, and I have no patience with the students who don't try
to combine the two. By the way," she added, turning round, and speaking
in a rather impertinent voice to Priscilla, "I sent you a message to say
I was going down to Kingsdene this afternoon, and would be happy to take
you with me if you would care to visit Spilman's."
"Thank you," said Priscilla, "I got your note just too late to answer
it. I was going to speak to you about it," she added.
"Then you would have come?"
Priscilla's face grew very red.
"No, I should not have come."
It was Miss Marsh's turn to get red.
"Come! Annie," she exclaimed, turning to Miss Day, "we had better waste
no more time here. Miss Banister, we'll see you presently, won't we?
Good-night, Miss Peel. Perhaps you don't mind my saying something very
frank?"
"I do," said Priscilla, "but that won't prevent your saying it, will
it?"
"I don't think it will. After you have been at St Benet's a little
longer you will know that we not only appreciate cleverness and studious
ways, but also obliging and sociable and friendly manners; and--and--
pretty rooms--rooms with easy-chairs, and comfortable lounges, and the
thousand and one things which give one a feeling of home. Take my
advice, Miss Peel, there's no use fighting against the tide. You'll
have to do as others do in the long run, and you may as well do it at
once. That is my plain opinion, and I should not have given it to you,
if I had not thought you needed it. Good-night."
"No, stop a minute," said Priscilla. Every scrap of colour had left her
face, every trace of nervousness her manner. She walked before the two
girls to the door, and closed it. "Please stay just for a minute
longer, Miss Day and Miss Marsh, and you too, Miss Banister, if you
will."
She went across the room again, and, opening the top drawer of her
bureau, took out her purse. Out of the purse she took a key. The key
fitted a small padlock, and the padlock belonged to her trunk. She
unlocked her empty trunk and opened it.
"There," she said, turning to the girls--"there," she continued, "you
will be good enough to notice that there are no photographs concealed in
this trunk, no pictures, no prints." She lifted the tray. "Empty, you
see," she added, pointing with her hand to the lower portion of the
trunk--"nothing here to make my room pretty, and cosy, and home-like."
Then she shut the trunk again and locked it, and going up to where the
three girls stood, gazing at her in bewilderment and some alarm, she
unfastened her purse, and turned all its contents into the palm of her
hand.
"Look, Miss Marsh," she said, turning to the girl who had spoken last.
"You may count what is here. One sovereign, one half-sovereign, two or
three shillings, some pence. Would this money go far at Spilman's, do
you think?"
Priscilla put it all slowly back again into her purse. Her face was
still absolutely colourless. She laid the purse on the top of her
bureau.
"I do not suppose," she said, in a low, sad voice, "that I am the sort
of girl who often comes to a place of this sort. I am poor, and I have
got to work hard, and I have no time for pleasure. Nevertheless," she
added--and now a great wave of colour swept over her face, and her eyes
were lit up, and she had a sensation of feeling quite glad, and strong,
and happy--"I am not going away because I am poor, and I am not going to
mind what anyone thinks of me as long as I do right. My room must stay
empty and bare, because I have no money to make it full and beautiful.
And do you think that I would ask those--those who sent me here--to add
one feather's weight to their cares and expenses, to give me money to
buy beautiful things because I am afraid of you? No, I should be
_awfully_ afraid to do that; but I am not afraid of you."
Priscilla opened the drawer of her bureau and put her little light purse
back again in its hiding-place.
"Good-night, Miss Peel," said Miss Day, in a thin, small kind of voice.
"Good-night, Miss Peel," said Miss Marsh. The girls went gently out of
the room. They closed the door behind them, without making any noise.
Nancy Banister remained behind. She came up to Priscilla, and kissed
her.
"You are brave," she said. "I admire you. I--I--am proud of you. I am
glad to know that a girl like you has come to live here."
"Don't--don't," said poor Prissie. Her little burst of courage had
deserted her. She covered her face with her trembling hands. She did
not want Nancy Banister to see that her eyes were full of tears.