"A year older than--who?" asked Amy, thinking that she must have misunderstood. "What did you say?" "Oh, nothing--really nothing," replied Martine, hastily, with a heightened color. "I was only thinking that Balfour Airton seems so very much older than most boys of his age, and he knows so much more than most students." Martine's words were hurried and nervous, and Amy decided that she was more disturbed than she had expected her to be at parting with her Annapolis friends. But if Amy only suspected Martine's feelings, she had no difficulty in deciding how Priscilla felt. She and Eunice had formed a most romantic attachment for each other, and made no effort to hide the tears that fell freely as they bade good-bye at the station. At the final parting each threw her arms around the other's neck, and the bystanders tried not to laugh when Eunice in her emotion knocked off Priscilla's hat and entangled the cord of her eyeglasses in Priscilla's belt. But the bystanders, if amused, were sympathetic, consisting as they did chiefly of Dr. and Mrs. Gray, Balfour, and Mrs. Airton, and one or two other friends whom the travellers had met during their weeks in Annapolis. "Your tears, my dear Eunice," said Dr. Gray, "exactly express the feelings of all the rest of us; and while we wish you, Mrs. Redmond, a safe journey, it is perhaps not too selfish to hope that you and the young ladies may look back to Annapolis as the brightest spot on the map of your travels." "Indeed, we shall," said Mrs. Redmond, cordially, "and--" "All aboard!" called the conductor; "Good-bye," shouted Balfour; "Write soon," sighed Eunice. "Come back next summer," cried Dr. Gray. "Perhaps sooner," responded Amy, and with a puff and a shriek the "Flying Bluenose" glided off toward the real land of Evangeline. CHAPTER XV WITH PREJUDICE "Priscilla," said Amy, as they finished breakfast on their first morning at Wolfville, "you are no longer homesick." "Did I say I was homesick?" "Perhaps not in words, though you have looked it a great many times. But I noticed a change during our last week in Annapolis; you have seemed perfectly cheerful ever since." "Oh, I'm sorry," responded the over-conscientious Priscilla, "if I seemed less than cheerful before; it was really very wrong in me, for you and your mother have been so kind, and Martine is so very--" here she hesitated for a moment--"so very lively." Amy smiled at Priscilla's earnestness. "To most persons you would have seemed perfectly cheerful, but little things have shown me that your heart was not wholly with us."