Annie Day and her friend Rosalind ceased to laugh as soon as they turned
the corner. Annie now turned her eyes and fixed them on Rosalind, who
blushed and looked uncomfortable.
"Well," said Annie, "you are a humbug, Rose! What a story you told me
about Mr Hammond--how he looked at you, and was so anxious to make use
of you. Oh, you know all you said. You told me a charming story about
your position as `gooseberry.' You expected a little fun for yourself,
didn't you, my friend? Well, it seems to me that if anyone is to have
the fun, it is Priscilla Peel."
Rosalind had rather a nervous manner. She bit her lips now; her
baby-blue eyes looked angry, her innocent face wore a frown. She
dropped her hold of Annie Day's arm.
Miss Day was one of the most commonplace girls at Heath Hall. She had
neither good looks nor talent; she had no refinement of nature, nor had
she those rugged but sterling qualities of honesty and integrity of
purpose which go far to cover a multitude of other defects.
"I wish you wouldn't speak to me in that way," said Rosalind, with a
little gasp. "I hate people to laugh at me, and I can't stand sneers."
"Oh, no! you're such a dear little innocent baby. Of course, I can
quite understand. And does she suppose I'll ruffle her pretty little
feathers? No, not I. I'd rather invent a new cradle song for you,
Rosie, dear."
"Don't, don't!" said Rosalind. "Look here, Annie, I must say
something--yes, I must. I _hate_ Maggie Oliphant!"
"You hate Miss Oliphant?" Annie Day stood still, turned round, and
stared at her companion. "When did this revolution take place, my dear?
What about Rose and Maggie sitting side by side at dinner? And Rose
creeping away all by herself to Maggie's room, and angling for an
invitation to cocoa, and trying hard, very hard, to become a member of
the Dramatic Society, just because Maggie acts so splendidly. Has it
not been _Maggie--Maggie_--ever since the term began, until we girls,
who were not in love with this quite too charming piece of perfection,
absolutely hated the sound of her name? Oh, Rose, what a fickle baby
you are. I am ashamed of you!"
"Don't!" said Rose, again. She linked her hand half timidly in Miss
Day's arm. Miss Day was almost a head and shoulders above the little,
delicate, fairy-like creature. "I suppose I can't help changing my
mind," she said. "I _did_ love Maggie, of course I loved her--she
fascinated me; but I don't care for her--no, I _hate_ her now!"
"How vehemently you pronounce that naughty word, my fair Rosalind. You
must give me some reasons for this grievous change in your feelings."
"She snubbed me," said Rosalind; "she made little of me. I offered to
do her a kindness, and she repulsed me. Who cares to be made little of,
and repulsed?"
"Who, truly, Rosie?--not even an innocent baby. Now then, my love, let
me whisper a little secret to you. I have never loved Miss Oliphant. I
have never been a victim to her charms. Time was when she and Miss
Lee--poor Annabel!--ruled the whole of our Hall. Those two girls
carried everything before them. That was before your day, Rose. Then
Miss Lee died. She caught a chill, and had a fever, and was dead in a
couple of days. Yes, of course, it was shocking. They moved her to the
hospital, and she died there. Oh, there was such excitement, and such
grief--even _I_ was sorry; for Annabel had a way about her, I can't
describe it, but she _could_ fascinate you. It was awfully interesting
to talk to her, and even to look at her was a real pleasure. We used
not to think much about Maggie when Annabel was by; but now, what with
Maggie and her mystery, and Maggie and her love affair, and Maggie and
her handsome face, and her wealth, and her expectations, why she bids
fair to be more popular even than the two were when they were together.
Yes, little Rose, I don't want her to be popular any more than you do.
I think it's a very unhealthy sign of any place to have all the girls
sighing and groaning about one or two--dying to possess their
autographs, and kissing their photographs, and framing them, and putting
them up in their rooms. I hate that mawkish kind of nonsense,"
continued Miss Day, looking very virtuous, "and I think Miss Heath ought
to know about it, and put a stop to it. I do, really."
Rosalind was glad that the gathering darkness prevented her sharp
companion from seeing the blush on her face; for amongst her own sacred
possessions she kept an autograph letter of Maggie's, and she had
passionately kissed Maggie's beautiful face as it looked at her out of a
photograph, and, until the moment when all her feelings had undergone
such a change, was secretly saving up her pence to buy a frame for it.
Now she inquired eagerly--
"What is the mystery about Miss Oliphant? So many people hint about it,
I do wish you would tell me, Annie."
"If I told you, pet, it would cease to be a mystery."
"But you might say what you know. _Do_, Annie!"
"Oh, it isn't much--it's really nothing; and yet--and yet--"
"You know it isn't nothing, Annie!"
"Well, when Annabel died, people said that Maggie had more cause than
anyone else to be sorry. I never could find out what that cause was;
but the servants spread some reports. They said they had found Maggie
and Annabel together; Annabel had fainted, and Maggie was in an awful
state of misery--in quite an unnatural state, they said; she went into
hysterics, and Miss Heath was sent for, and was a long time soothing
her. There was no apparent reason for this, although, somehow or other,
little whispers got abroad that the mystery of Annabel's illness and
Maggie's distress was connected with Geoffrey Hammond. Of course,
nothing was known, and nothing is known; but, certainly, the little
whisper got into the air. Dear me, Rosalind, you need not eat me with
your eyes. I am repeating mere conjectures, and it is highly probable
that not the slightest notice would have been taken of this little
rumour but for the tragedy which immediately followed. Annabel, who had
been as gay and well as anyone at breakfast that morning, was never seen
in the college again. She was unconscious, the servants said, for a
long time, and when she awoke was in high fever. She was removed to the
hospital, and Maggie had seen the last of her friend. Poor Annabel died
in two days, and afterwards Maggie took the fever. Yes, she has been
quite changed since then. She always had moods, as she called them, but
not like now. Sometimes I think she is almost flighty."
Rosalind was silent. After a while she said, in a prim little voice,
which she adopted now and then when she wanted to conceal her real
feelings--
"But I do wonder what the quarrel was about--I mean, what really
happened between Annabel and Maggie."
"Look here, Rosalind, have I said anything about a quarrel? Please
remember that the whole thing is conjecture from beginning to end, and
don't go all over the place spreading stories and making mischief. I
have told you this in confidence, so don't forget."
"I won't forget," replied Rosalind. "I don't know why you should accuse
me of wanting to make mischief, Annie. I can't help being curious, of
course, and, of course, I'd like to know more."
"Well, for that matter, so would I," replied Annie. "Where there is a
mystery it's much more satisfactory to get to the bottom of it. Of
course, something dreadful must have happened to account for the change
in Miss Oliphant. It would be a comfort to know the truth, and, of
course, one need never talk of it. By the way, Rosie, you are just the
person to ferret this little secret out; you are the right sort of
person for spying and peeping."
"Oh, thank you," replied Rosalind; "if that's your opinion of me I'm not
inclined to do anything to please you. Spying and peeping, indeed!
What next?"
Annie Day patted her companion's small white hand.
"And so I've hurt the dear little baby's feelings!" she said. "But I
didn't mean to--no, that I didn't. And she such a pretty, sweet, little
pet as she is! Well, Rosie, you know what I mean. If we can find out
the truth about Miss Maggie we'll just have a quiet little crow over her
all to ourselves. I don't suppose we shall find out; but opportunities
may arise--who knows? Now I want to speak to you about another person,
and that is Maggie's new friend."
"What new friend?" Rosalind blushed brightly.
"That ugly Priscilla Peel. She has taken her up. Anyone can see that."
"Oh, I don't think so."
"But I do--I am sure of it. Now I have good reason not to like Miss
Priscilla. You know what a virtuous parade she made of herself a few
nights ago?"
"Yes, you told me."
"Horrid, set-up minx! Just the sort of girl who ought to be suppressed,
and crushed out of a college like ours. Vaunting her poverty in our
very faces, and refusing to make herself pleasant or one with us in any
sort of way. Lucy Marsh and I had a long talk over her that night, and
we put our heads together to concoct a nice little bit of punishment for
her. You know she's horridly shy, and as _gauche_ as if she lived in
the backwoods, and we meant to `send her to Coventry.' We had it all
arranged, and a whole lot of girls would have joined us, for it's
contrary to the spirit of a place like this to allow girls of the
Priscilla Peel type to become popular, or liked in any way. But, most
unluckily, poor, dear, good, but stupid, Nancy Banister was in the room
when Prissie made her little oration, and Nancy took her up as if she
were a heroine, and spoke of her as if she had done something
magnificent, and, of course, Nancy told Maggie, and now Maggie is as
thick as possible with Prissie. So you see, my dear Rosalind, our
virtuous little scheme is completely knocked on the head."
"I don't see--" began Rosalind.
"You little goose, before a week is out Prissie will be the fashion.
All the girls will flock round her when Maggie takes her part. Bare,
ugly rooms will be the rage; poverty will be the height of the fashion,
and it will be considered wrong even to go in for the recognised college
recreations. Rosie, my love, we must nip this growing mischief in the
bud."
"How?" asked Rosalind.
"We must separate Maggie Oliphant and Priscilla Peel."
"How?" asked Rose again. "I'm sure," she added, in a vehement voice,
"I'm willing--I'm more than willing."
"Good. Well, we're at home now, and I absolutely must have a cup of
tea. No time for it in my room to-night--let's come into the hall and
have some there. Look here, Rosalind, I'll ask Lucy Marsh to have cocoa
to-night in my room, and you can come too. Now keep a silent tongue in
your head, Baby."