At last in her reading she came to a difficult sentence, which, try as she would, she could not render into English to her own satisfaction. She was a very careful student and always disliked shirking difficulties; the pleasure of her reading would be lost if she did not do full justice to the lines which puzzled her. She resolved to read no further until Maggie appeared. Maggie Oliphant, with her superior information, would soon cut the knot for her. She closed the copy of Euripides with reluctance, and, putting her hand into her pocket, took out a note she had just received, to mark the place. A moment or two later Maggie came in. “Still here, Prissie!” she exclaimed in her somewhat indifferent but good-natured voice. “What a bookworm you are turning into!” “I have been waiting for you to help me, if you will, Maggie,” said Priscilla. “I have lost the right clew to the full sense of this passage— see! Can you give it to me?” Maggie sat down at once, took up the book, glanced her eyes over the difficult words and translated them with ease. “How lovely!” said Prissie, clasping her hands and giving herself up to a feeling of enjoyment. “Don’t stop, Maggie, please; do read some more!” Miss Oliphant smiled. “Enthusiast!” she murmured. She translated with brilliancy to the end of the page; then, throwing the book on her knee, repeated the whole passage aloud in Greek. The note that Prissie put in as a mark fell on the floor. She was so lost in delighted listening that she did not notice it, but, when Maggie at last stopped for want of breath, Priscilla saw the little note, stooped forward to pick it up, glanced at the handwriting, and a shadow swept over her expressive face. “Oh! thank you, Maggie, thank you,” she exclaimed; “it is beautiful, entrancing! It made me forget everything for a short time, but I must not listen to any more; it is, indeed, most beautiful, but not for me.” “What do you mean, you little goose? You will soon read Euripides as well as I do. What is more, you will surpass me, Priscilla; your talent is greater than mine.” “Don’t say that, Maggie; I can scarcely bear it when you do.” “Why do you say you can scarcely bear it? Do you love me so well that you hate to excel me? Silly child, as if I cared!” “Maggie, I know you are really too great to be possessed by petty weaknesses. If I ever did excel you, which is most unlikely, I know you would be glad both for me and for yourself. No, it is not that; I am unhappy because of no fancy.” “What worries you then?” “Maggie, do you see this note?” “Yes; it is from Miss Heath, is it not?” “It is. I am to see her to-night.” “Well, Prissie, you must be quick with your revelation, for I have some notes to look over.”