They both started when she said this and looked at her hard. They were too well-bred, however, to give utterance to the many comments which crowded to their lips. Prissie read their thoughts like a book. “I did not like it at all,” she said; “but I’d rather say nothing about it, please. After Mr. Hammond came I was happy.” “Mr. Hammond was there?” said Nancy in an eager voice. “Geoffrey Hammond was at the Elliot-Smiths’? Impossible!” “He was there,” repeated Prissie. She glanced nervously at Maggie, who had taken up a book and was pretending to read. “He came and he spoke to me. He was very, very kind, and he made me so happy.” “Dear Prissie,” said Maggie suddenly. She got up, went over to the young girl, tapped her affectionately on the shoulder and left the room. Prissie sat, looking thoughtfully before her. After a time she bade Nancy Banister “good night” and went off to her own room to study the notes she had taken that morning at the French lecture. The next few days passed without anything special occurring. If a little rumor were already beginning to swell in the air, it scarcely reached the ears of those principally concerned. Maggie Oliphant continued to make a special favorite of Miss Peel. She sat near her at breakfast and at the meetings of the Dramatic Society was particularly anxious to secure a good part for Prissie. The members of the society intended to act _The Princess_ before the end of the term, and as there was a great deal to work up and many rehearsals were necessary, they met in the little theater on most evenings. Maggie Oliphant had been unanimously selected to take the part of the Princess. She electrified every one by drawing Miss Peel toward her and saying in an emphatic voice: “You must be the Prince, Priscilla.” A look of dismay crept over several faces. One or two made different proposals. “Would not Nancy Banister take the part better, Maggie?” said Miss Claydon, a tall, graceful girl, who was to be Psyche. “No; Nancy is to be Cyril. She sings well and can do the part admirably. Miss Peel must be the Prince: I will have no other lover. What do you say, Miss Peel?” “I cannot; it is impossible,” almost whispered Prissie. “‘Cannot’ is a word which must not be listened to in our Dramatic Society,” responded Maggie. “I promise to turn you out a most accomplished Prince, my friend; no one shall be disappointed in you. Girls, do you leave this matter in my hands? Do you leave the Prince to me?” “We cannot refuse you the privilege of choosing your own Prince, Princess,” said Miss Claydon with a graceful curtsy. The others assented, but unwillingly. Miss Oliphant was known to be more full of whims than any one else in the college. Her extraordinary and sudden friendship for Prissie was regarded as her latest caprice. Rosalind Merton was not a particularly good actress, but her face was too pretty not to be called into requisition. She was to take the part of Melissa.