Prissie’s eyes seemed suddenly to blaze fire. For the first time she perceived the drift of the cruel suspicion which her fellow-students were seeking to cast upon her. “How wicked you are!” she said to Rosalind. “Why do you look at me like that? Miss Day, why do you smile? Why do you all smile? Oh, Nancy,” added poor Prissie, springing to her feet and looking full into Nancy’s troubled eyes, “what is the matter?— am I in a dream?” “It is all very fine to be theatrical,” said Miss Day, “but the fact is, Miss Peel, you are not at all popular enough at St. Benet’s to induce any of us to consent to live under a ban for your sake. Miss Oliphant has lost her money. You say that you spent some time in her room; the purse was on her bureau. Miss Oliphant is rich, she is also generous; she says openly that she does not intend to investigate the matter. No doubt, if you confess your weakness and return the money, she will forgive you and not report this disgraceful proceeding to the college authorities.” While Miss Day was speaking some heavy panting breaths came two or three times from Priscilla’s lips. Her face had turned cold and white, but her eyes blazed like living coals. “Now I understand,” she said slowly, “you think— you think that I— I stole a five-pound note from my friend; you think that I went into her room and opened her purse and took away her money; you think that of me— you! I scorn you all, I defy you, I dare you to prove your dreadful words! I am going to Miss Heath this moment; she shall protect me from this dishonor.” CHAPTER XXVI IN THE ANTE-CHAPEL OF ST. HILDA’S Priscilla ran blindly down the corridor which opened into the wide entrance-hall. Groups of girls were standing about. They stared as the wild-looking apparition rushed past them: Prissie was blind to their puzzled and curious glances. She wanted to see Miss Heath. She had a queer kind of instinct, rather than any distinct impression, that in Miss Heath’s presence she would be protected, that Miss Heath would know what to say, would know how to dispel the cloud of disgrace which had suddenly been cast over her like a cloak. “Is there anything wrong, Miss Peel?” said gentle little Ada Hardy, coming up and speaking to her affectionately. Miss Hardy stood right in Prissie’s path, barring her way for a moment and causing her, in spite of herself, to stop her headlong rush to the vice-principal’s room. Priscilla put up her hand to her brow. She looked in a dazed sort of way at the kindhearted girl. “What is the matter— can I help you?” repeated Ada Hardy. “You can’t help me,” said Prissie. “I want to see Miss Heath; let me pass.” She ran forward again, and some other girls, coming out of the dining-hall, now came up to Ada and distracted her attention.