Priscilla sank back in her seat. Her head was aching. Annie, on the contrary, sat very upright, looking fresh, bright, and happy. After a time, however, something occurred which made her feel less comfortable. Priscilla bent towards her and said: "By the way--I was almost forgetting, and she begged of me so hard not to do so--but will you return her book to Susan Martin?" Annie's face became crimson, then pale. "Susan Martin?" she said. "Do you know her?" "Of course I know her, Annie. What a queer colour you have turned! She has been making several things for me during the last few days. She is very much excited, poor girl, about a manuscript book of poems which you borrowed from her. She said you wanted them to show to a judge of poetry in order to help her to get them published. I had not an idea that the poor girl was a poet." "Oh, she is," said Annie, who by this time had recovered her self-possession, and whom the very imminence of the danger rendered cool and self-possessed. "She writes quite wonderfully. I did borrow her book to show to Uncle Maurice; he is such a good judge." "Oh, was _that_ all?" said Priscilla. "I thought from Susan's manner that you knew some publisher. She thinks a great deal about her poems." "Yes, poor girl!" said Annie; "I must write to her." "Have you shown the poems to your uncle, Annie?" "Not yet, Priscilla. Uncle Maurice has not been well; I could not worry him with those sort of matters." "Not well?" said Priscilla. "And you have left him?" "Yes, my dear, good Priscilla," said Annie; "I have been wicked enough to do so. He is too ill to be bothered with Susan Martin's productions, but not too ill to afford me a pleasant little holiday. Now do let's change the subject." "With pleasure," said Priscilla. "I wish to change it, if you don't mind, by shutting my eyes, for I have a very bad headache." While Priscilla slept, or tried to sleep, Annie sat back amongst her cushions lost in thought. "Really," she said to herself, "if all the things that I have done lately were discovered I should have but a poor time. I forgot all about Susan Martin and her manuscript book. It came in very handily at the time, but now it is no end of a bore. I ought to have cautioned her not to speak of it to any one. It is a great pity that Priscilla knows about it, for if by any chance she asks Susan to show her the book, the two poems attributed to Mabel will immediately be discovered. Certainly Priscilla is a disagreeable character, and I cannot imagine why I have bothered myself so much about her." The railway journey came to an end, and a short time afterwards the girls found themselves greeted by Lady Lushington and Mabel at the Grand Hotel.