"Oh dear!" said Annie, almost skipping with rapture, "I am sure I am not a bit too proud." "We have got things for Priscie too," said Mabel, "and I do hope she won't turn up crusty; she is such a queer girl." "Why ever did you invite her, Mabel?" asked Annie. "Why did I invite her?" said Mabel. "It was not my doing, you may be sure. Not that I dislike the poor old thing; far from that. She is quite a dear. But, of course, what I wanted was to have you to myself; but no--Aunt Hennie wouldn't hear of it; she said that nothing would induce her to take two girls about with her. Her remark was that we should always be together, and that she would be _de trop_. Now she doesn't mean to be _de trop_, so one of us is always to be with her, and the other two can enjoy themselves. She said at once, when I broached the subject of your joining us, that you might come with pleasure, and she would be only too delighted if another of our schoolfellows came as well. My dear, I argued and argued, but she was firm. So then I had to think of poor Priscilla, for really there was no one else to come; none of the others would dream of giving up their own friends and their own fun; and there was Priscilla landed at the school. So I told Aunt Hennie what she was like--grave and sedate, with grey eyes and a nice sort of face. I assured her that Priscie was a girl worth knowing, and Aunt Henrietta took a fancy to my description, told me to write off to her and to Mrs Lyttelton; and she wrote herself also; and, of course, Mrs Lyttelton jumped at it. So here we are, saddled with Priscie, and we must make the best of it. Dear Annie, do take off your hat and jacket, and get into your evening-dress; we shall be going down to dinner in a few minutes. I will help you with your hair if you need it, for I expect Parker is having a war of words with Priscilla. There's such a sweet dress waiting for Priscie to wear--dove-coloured silk, made very simply. She will look like a Quakeress in it; it will suit her to perfection." Just at that moment a commotion was heard on the landing outside; a hurried knock came at the room door, and Priscilla, flushed, untidy, and wearing the same dress as she had travelled in, stood on the threshold. Behind Priscilla appeared the equally disturbed face and figure of Parker. "Really, Miss Lushington," began Parker, "I have done all I could--" "Your conduct is not justifiable," interrupted Priscilla. "I am very sorry indeed, Mabel; you mean kindly, of course, but I cannot wear clothes that don't belong to me. I would rather not have dinner, if you will excuse me. My head aches, and I should much prefer to go to bed."