“And so I’ve hurt the dear little baby’s feelings!” she said. “But I didn’t mean to— no, that I didn’t. And she such a pretty, sweet little pet as she is! Well, Rosie, you know what I mean. If we can find out the truth about Miss Maggie we’ll just have a quiet little crow over her all to ourselves. I don’t suppose we shall find out, but the opportunities may arise— who knows? Now I want to speak to you about another person, and that is Maggie’s new friend.” “What new friend?” Rosalind blushed brightly. “That ugly Priscilla Peel. She has taken her up. Any one can see that.” “Oh, I don’t think so.” “But I do— I am sure of it. Now I have good reason not to like Miss Priscilla. You know what a virtuous parade she made of herself a few nights ago?” “Yes, you told me.” “Horrid, set-up minx! Just the sort of girl who ought to be suppressed and crushed out of a college like ours. Vaunting her poverty in our very faces and refusing to make herself pleasant or one with us in any sort of way. Lucy Marsh and I had a long talk over her that night, and we put our heads together to concoct a nice little bit of punishment for her. You know she’s horridly shy, and as _gauche_ as if she lived in the backwoods, and we meant to ‘send her to Coventry.’ We had it all arranged, and a whole lot of girls would have joined us, for it’s contrary to the spirit of a place like this to allow girls of the Priscilla Peel type to become popular or liked in any way. But, most unluckily, poor, dear, good, but stupid, Nancy Banister was in the room when Prissie made her little oration, and Nancy took her up as if she were a heroine and spoke of her as if she had done something magnificent, and, of course, Nancy told Maggie, and now Maggie is as thick as possible with Prissie. So you see, my dear Rosalind, our virtuous little scheme is completely knocked on the head.” “I don’t see—” began Rosalind. “You little goose, before a week is out Prissie will be the fashion. All the girls will flock around her when Maggie takes her part. Bare, ugly rooms will be the rage; poverty will be the height of the fashion, and it will be considered wrong even to go in for the recognized college recreations. Rosie, my love, we must nip this growing mischief in the bud.” “How?” asked Rosalind. “We must separate Maggie Oliphant and Priscilla Peel.” “How?” asked Rose again. “I’m sure,” she added in a vehement voice, “I’m willing— I’m more than willing.” “Good. Well, we’re at home now, and I absolutely must have a cup of tea. No time for it in my room to-night— let’s come into the hall and have some there. Look here, Rosalind, I’ll ask Lucy Marsh to have cocoa to-night in my room, and you can come too. Now keep a silent tongue in your head, Baby.” CHAPTER XII A GOOD THING TO BE YOUNG