“A shy little soul like this will love the shade,” she said to herself. “For all her plainness this is no ordinary girl, and I mean to draw her out presently. What a brow she has, and what a light came into her eyes when she looked at my white chrysanthemum.” There came a tap at the door, and Maggie Oliphant entered, looking fresh and bright. She gave Prissie an affectionate glance and nod and then began to busy herself, helping Miss Heath with the tea. During the meal a little pleasant murmur of conversation was kept up. Miss Heath and Maggie exchanged ideas. They even entered upon one or two delicate little skirmishes, each cleverly arguing a slight point on which they appeared to differ. Maggie could make smart repartees, and Miss Heath could parry her graceful young adversary’s home thrusts with excellent effect. They talked of one or two books which were then under discussion; they said a little about music and a word or two with regard to the pictures which were just then causing talk among the art critics in London. It was all new to Prissie, this “light, airy, nothing” kind of talk. It was not study; could it be classed under the head of recreation? Prissie was accustomed to classify everything, but she did not know under what head to put this pleasant conversation. She was bewildered, puzzled. She listened without losing a word. She forgot herself absolutely. Miss Heath, however, who knew Maggie Oliphant, but did not know Prissie, was observant of the silent young stranger through all the delights of her pleasant talk. Almost imperceptibly she got Prissie to say a word or two. She paused when she saw a question in Prissie’s eyes, and her timid and gentle words were listened to with deference. By slow degrees Maggie was the silent one and Priscilla and Miss Heath held the field between them. “No, I have never been properly educated,” Prissie was saying. “I have never gone to a high school. I don’t do things in the regular fashion. I was so afraid I should not be able to pass the entrance examination for St. Benet’s. I was delighted when I found that I had done so.” “You passed the examination creditably,” said Miss Heath. “I have looked through your papers. Your answers were not stereotyped. They were much better; they were thoughtful. Whoever has educated you, you have been well taught. You can think.” “Oh, yes, my dear friend, Mr. Hayes, always said that was the first thing.” “Ah, that accounts for it,” replied Miss Heath. “You have had the advantage of listening to a cultivated man’s conversation. You ought to do very well here. What do you mean to take up?” “Oh, everything. I can’t know too much.” Miss Heath laughed and looked at Maggie. Maggie was lying back in her easy-chair, her head resting luxuriously against a dark velvet cushion. She was tapping the floor slightly with her small foot; her eyes were fixed on Prissie. When Miss Heath laughed Maggie echoed the sound, but both laughs were in the sweetest sympathy.