“I will,” said Prissie. “Some one has stolen a five pound note out of Maggie Oliphant’s purse. She missed it late at night and spoke about it at breakfast this morning. I said that I did not know how it could have been taken, for I had been studying my Greek in her room during the whole afternoon. Maggie spoke about her loss in the dining-hall, and after she left the room Miss Day and Miss Merton accused me of having stolen the money.” Priscilla stopped speaking abruptly; she turned her head away; a dull red suffused her face and neck. “Well?” said Hammond. “That is all. The girls at St. Benet’s think I am a thief. They think I took my kindest friend’s money. I have nothing more to say: nothing possibly could be more dreadful to me. I shall speak to Miss Heath and ask leave to go away from the college at once.” “You certainly ought not to do that.” “What do you mean?” “If you went from St. Benet’s now, people might be induced to think that you really were guilty.” “But they think that now.” “I am quite certain that those students whose friendship is worth retaining think nothing of the sort.” “Why are you certain?” asked Prissie, turning swiftly round and a sudden ray of sunshine illuminating her whole face. “Do _you_ think that I am not a thief?” “I am as certain of that fact as I am of my own identity.” “Oh!” said the girl with a gasp. She made a sudden dart forward, and seizing Hammond’s hand, squeezed it passionately between both her own. “And Miss Oliphant does not think of you as a thief,” continued Hammond. “I don’t know— I can’t say.” “You have no right to be so unjust to her,” he replied with fervor. “I don’t care so much for the opinion of the others now,” said Prissie; “_you_ believe in me.” She walked erect again; her footsteps were light as if she trod on air. “You are a very good man,” she said. “I would do anything for you— anything.” Hammond smiled. Her innocence, her enthusiasm, her childishness were too apparent for him to take her words for more than they were worth. “Do you know,” he said after a pause, “that I am in a certain measure entitled to help you? In the first place, Miss Oliphant takes a great interest in you.” “You are mistaken, she does not— not now.” “I am not mistaken; she takes a great interest in you. Priscilla, you must have guessed— you _have_ guessed— what Maggie Oliphant is to me; I should like, therefore, to help her friend. That is one tie between us, but there is another— Mr. Hayes, your parish clergyman——” “Oh!” said Prissie, “do you know Mr. Hayes?” “I not only know him,” replied Hammond, smiling, “but he is my uncle. I am going to see him this evening.” “Oh!” “Of course, I shall tell him nothing of this, but I shall probably talk of you. Have you a message for him?” “I can send him no message to-day.”