A Sweet Girl Graduate

A Sweet Girl Graduate

The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Sweet Girl Graduate, by Mrs. L.T.
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Title: A Sweet Girl Graduate
Author: Mrs. L.T. Meade
Release Date: January, 2004 [EBook #4989] [Yes, we are more than
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Language: English
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A SWEET GIRL GRADUATE
by MRS. L. T. MEADE, 1891
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CHAPTER I
GOING OUT INTO THE WORLD
PRISCILLA'S trunk was neatly packed. It was a new trunk and had a
nice canvas covering over it. The canvas was bound with red braid, and
Priscilla's initials were worked on the top in large plain letters. Her
initials were P. P. P., and they stood for Priscilla Penywern Peel. The
trunk was corded and strapped and put away, and Priscilla stood by her
aunt's side in the little parlor of Penywern Cottage.
"Well, I think I've told you everything," said the aunt.
"Oh, yes, Aunt Raby, I sha'n't forget. I'm to write once a week, and I'm
to try not to be nervous. I don't suppose I shall be-- I don't see why I
should. Girls aren't nervous nowadays, are they?"
"I don't know, my dear. It seems to me that if they aren't they ought to
be. I can understand girls doing hard things if they must. I can

understand any one doing anything that has to be done, but as to not
being nervous-- well-- there! Sit down, Prissie, child, and take your
tea."
Priscilla was tall and slight. Her figure was younger than her years,
which were nearly nineteen, but her face was older. It was an almost
careworn face, thoughtful, grave, with anxious lines already deepening
the seriousness of the too serious mouth.
Priscilla cut some bread and butter and poured out some tea for her aunt
and for herself.
Miss Rachel Peel was not the least like her niece. She was short and
rather dumpy. She had a sensible, downright sort of face, and she took
life with a gravity which would have oppressed a less earnest spirit than
Priscilla's.
"Well, I'm tired," she said, when the meal was over. "I suppose I've
done a great deal more than I thought I had all day. I think I'll go to bed
early. We have said all our last words, haven't we, Priscilla?"
"Pretty nearly, Aunt Raby."
"Oh, yes, that reminds me-- there's one thing more. Your fees will be
all right, of course, and your traveling, and I have arranged about your
washing money."
"Yes, Aunt Raby, oh, yes; everything is all right."
Priscilla fidgeted, moved her position a little and looked longingly out
of the window.
"You must have a little money over and above these things," proceeded
Miss Peel in her sedate voice. "I am not rich, but I'll allow you-- yes,
I'll manage to allow you two shillings a week. That will be for
pocket-money, you understand, child."
The girl's old-young face flushed painfully.

"I'll want a few pence for stamps, of course," she said. "But I sha'n't
write a great many letters. I'll be a great deal too busy studying. You
need not allow me anything like so large a sum as that, Aunt Raby."
"Nonsense, child. You'll find it all too small when you go out into the
world. You are a clever girl, Prissie, and I'm going to be proud of you. I
don't hold with the present craze about women's education. But I feel
somehow that I shall be proud of you. You'll be learned enough, but
you'll be a woman with it all. I wouldn't have you stinted for the world,
Prissie, my dear. Yes, I'll make it ten shillings a month-- yes, I will. I
can easily screw that sum out of the butter money.