“Well, what are they?” said Prissie. Hammond’s voice had a sufficiently compelling power to make her sit down once more on her window-ledge. “Don’t you think,” he said, seating himself in front of her, “that we may as well keep this discussion to ourselves?” “Oh, yes; was I speaking too loud? I wouldn’t vex _you_ for anything.” “Pardon me; you are still speaking a little loud.” “Oh!” Poor Prissie fell back, her face crimson. “Please say anything you wish,” she presently piped in a voice as low as a little mouse might have used. “What I have to say is simply this,” said Hammond: “You will gain nothing now by rushing off to St. Benet’s. However hard you struggle, you cannot get there in time for dinner. Would it not be best, then, to remain here quietly until Miss Merton asks you to accompany her back to the college? Then, of course, it will remain with you to pay her out in any way you think well.” “Thank you; perhaps that is best. It is quite hopeless now to think of getting back in time for dinner. I only hope Miss Merton won’t keep me waiting very long, for it is very, very dull sitting here and seeing people staring at you.” “I would not look at them if I were you, Miss Peel; and, if you will permit me, I shall be only too pleased to keep you company.” “Oh, thank you,” said Prissie. “Then I sha’n’t mind staying at all.” The next half-hour seemed to pass on the wings of the wind. Priscilla was engaged in an animated discussion with Hammond on the relative attractions of the “Iliad” and the “Odyssey;” her opinion differed from his, and she was well able to hold her ground. Her face was now both eloquent and attractive, her eyes were bright, her words terse and epigrammatic. She looked so different a girl from the cowed and miserable little Prissie of an hour ago that Rosalind Merton as she came up and tapped her on the shoulder, felt a pang of envy. “I am sorry to interrupt you,” she said, “but it is time for us to be going home. Have you given Mr. Hammond his message?” “What do you mean?” asked Priscilla. “I have not any message for Mr. Hammond.” “You must have forgotten. Did not Miss Oliphant give you a letter for him?” “Certainly not. What do you mean?” “I felt sure I saw her,” said Rosalind. “I suppose I was mistaken. Well, sorry as I am to interrupt a pleasant talk, I fear I must ask you to come home with me now.” She raised her pretty baby eyes to Hammond’s face as she spoke. He absolutely scowled down at her, shook hands warmly with Priscilla and turned away. “Come and bid Mrs. Elliot-Smith good-by,” said Rosalind, her eyes still dancing. “She is at the other end of the drawing-room; come, you can follow me.” “How disgracefully you have behaved, Miss Merton!” began Priscilla at once. “You cannot expect me ever to speak to you again, and I shall certainly tell Miss Heath.” They were walking across the crowded drawing-room now. Rosalind turned and let her laughing eyes look full at Prissie.