“Well, I’m tired,” she said, when the meal was over. “I suppose I’ve done a great deal more than I thought I had all day. I think I’ll go to bed early. We have said all our last words, haven’t we, Priscilla?” “Pretty nearly, Aunt Raby.” “Oh, yes, that reminds me— there’s one thing more. Your fees will be all right, of course, and your traveling, and I have arranged about your washing money.” “Yes, Aunt Raby, oh, yes; everything is all right.” Priscilla fidgeted, moved her position a little and looked longingly out of the window. “You must have a little money over and above these things,” proceeded Miss Peel in her sedate voice. “I am not rich, but I’ll allow you— yes, I’ll manage to allow you two shillings a week. That will be for pocket-money, you understand, child.” The girl’s old-young face flushed painfully. “I’ll want a few pence for stamps, of course,” she said. “But I sha’n’t write a great many letters. I’ll be a great deal too busy studying. You need not allow me anything like so large a sum as that, Aunt Raby.” “Nonsense, child. You’ll find it all too small when you go out into the world. You are a clever girl, Prissie, and I’m going to be proud of you. I don’t hold with the present craze about women’s education. But I feel somehow that I shall be proud of you. You’ll be learned enough, but you’ll be a woman with it all. I wouldn’t have you stinted for the world, Prissie, my dear. Yes, I’ll make it ten shillings a month— yes, I will. I can easily screw that sum out of the butter money. Now, not another word. I’m off to bed. Good night, my love.” Priscilla kissed her aunt and went out. It was a lovely autumn evening. She stepped on to the green sward which surrounded the little cottage, and with the moonlight casting its full radiance on her slim figure, looked steadily out over the sea. The cottage was on the top of some high cliffs. The light of the moon made a bright path over the water, and Priscilla had a good view of shining, silvered water and dark, deep blue sky. She stood perfectly still, gazing straight out before her. Some of the reflection and brightness of the moonlight seemed to get into her anxious eyes and the faint dawn of a new-born hope to tremble around her lips. She thought herself rich with ten shillings a month pocket-money. She returned to the house, feeling overpowered at Aunt Raby’s goodness. Upstairs in Prissie’s room there were two beds. One was small; in this she herself slept. The other had now three occupants. Three heads were raised when Prissie entered the room and three shrill voices exclaimed: “Here we are, all wide awake, Prissie, darling!” This remark, made simultaneously, was followed by prolonged peals of laughter. “Three of you in that small bed!” said Priscilla. She stood still, and a smile broke all over her face. “Why, Hattie,” she said, catching up the eldest of the three girls and giving her a fervent hug— “how did you slip out of Aunt Raby’s room?”