“Look here,” said Meta Elliot-Smith, “now that you two dear, precious girls have come, you mustn’t go away. Oh, no, I couldn’t hear of it. I have perfect oceans to say to you, Rose— and it is absolutely centuries since we have met. Off with your waterproof and up you come to the drawing-room for a cup of tea. One or two friends are dropping in presently, and the Beechers and one or two more are upstairs now. You know the Beechers, don’t you, Rosalind? Here, Miss Peel, let me help you to unburden yourself. Little Rose is so nimble in her ways that she doesn’t need any assistance.” “Oh, but indeed I can’t stay,” said Prissie. “It is quite impossible! You know, Miss Merton, it is impossible. We are due at St. Benet’s now. We ought to be going back at once.” Rosalind Merton’s only answer was to slip off her waterproof cloak and stand arrayed in a fascinating toilet of silk and lace— a little too dressy, perhaps, even for an afternoon party at Kingsdene, but vastly becoming to its small wearer. Priscilla opened her eyes wide as she gazed at her companion. She saw at once that she had been entrapped into her present false position, and that Rosalind’s real object in coming to Kingsdene was not to pay her dressmaker but to visit the Elliot-Smiths. “I can’t possible stay,” she said in a cold, angry voice. “I must go back to St. Benet’s at once.” She began to button up her waterproof as fast as Miss Elliot-Smith was unbuttoning it. “Nonsense, you silly old dear!” said Rosalind, who, having gained her way, was now in the best of spirits. “You mustn’t listen to her, Meta; she studies a great deal too hard, and a little relaxation will do her all the good in the world. My dear Miss Peel, you can’t be so rude as to refuse a cup of tea, and I know I shall catch an awful cold if I don’t have one. Do come upstairs for half an hour; _do,_ there’s a dear Prissie!” Priscilla hesitated. She had no knowledge of so-called “society.” Her instincts told her it was very wrong to humor Rose. She disliked Miss Elliot-Smith and felt wild at the trick which had been played on her. Nevertheless, on an occasion of this kind, she was no match for Rose, who knew perfectly what she was about, and stood smiling and pretty before her. “Just for a few moments,” said Rosalind, coming up and whispering to her. “I really won’t keep you long. You _will_ just oblige me for a few minutes.” “Well, but I’m not fit to be seen in this old dress!” whispered back poor Prissie. “Oh, yes, you are; you’re not bad at all, and I am sure Meta will find you a secluded corner if you want it— won’t you, Meta?” “Yes, of course, if Miss Peel wants it,” answered Meta. “But she looks all right, so deliciously quaint— I simply _adore_ quaint people! Quite the sweet girl graduate, I do declare. You don’t at all answer to the _role,_ you naughty Rosalind!”