A Sweet Girl Graduate | Page 4

to her companion.
"Maggie," said the other in a warning voice, "I know you, I know what
you mean to do."
"My dear, good Nancy, it is more than I know myself. What awful
indiscretion does your prophetic soul see me perpetrating?"
"Oh, Maggie, as if anything could change your nature! You know you'll
take up that miserable fresher for about a fortnight, and make her
imagine that you are going to be excellent friends for the rest of your
life, and then-- p---- f! you'll snuff her out as if she had never existed; I
know you, Maggie, and I call it cruel."
"Is not that Miss Banister I hear talking?" said a voice quite close to the
two girls.
They both turned, and immediately with heightened color rushed up
eagerly to shake hands with the vice-principal of their college.
"How do you do, my dears?" she said in a hearty voice. "Are you quite
well, Maggie, and you, Nancy? Had you a pleasant holiday? And did
you two great chums spend it together?"
The girls began answering eagerly; some other girls came up and joined
the group, all anxious to shake hands with Miss Heath and to get a
word of greeting from her.
At this moment the dressing-gong for dinner sounded, and the little
group moved slowly toward the house.
In the entrance hall numbers of girls who had recently arrived were
standing about; all had a nod, or a smile, or a kiss for Maggie Oliphant.

"How do you do, Miss Oliphant? Come and see me to-night in my
room, won't you, dear?" issued from many throats.
Maggie promised in her good-natured, affectionate, wholesale way.
Nancy Banister was also greeted by several friends. She, too, was gay
and bright, but quieter than Maggie. Her face was more reliable in its
expression, but not nearly so beautiful.
"If you accept all these invitations, Maggie," she said as the two girls
walked down the corridor which led to their rooms, "you know you will
have to sit up until morning. Why will you say 'yes' to every one? You
know it only causes disappointment and jealousy."
Maggie laughed.
"My dear, good creature, don't worry your righteous soul," she
answered. "I'll call on all the girls I can, and the others must grin and
bear it. Now we have barely time to change our dresses for dinner.
Surely, though, Nance, there's a light under Annabel Lee's door. Who
have they dared to put into her room? It must be one of those wretched
freshers. I don't think I can bear it. I shall have to go away into another
corridor."
"Maggie, dear-- you are far too sensitive. Could the college afford to
keep a room empty because poor, dear Annie Lee occupied it?"
"They could, they ought," burst from Maggie. She stamped her foot
with anger. "That room is a shrine to me. It will always be a shrine. I
shall hate the person who lives in it." Tears filled her bright brown eyes.
Her arched, proud lips trembled. She opened her door, and going into
her room, shut it with a bang, almost in Nancy Banister's face.
Nancy stood still for a moment. A quick sigh came from her lips.
"Maggie is the dearest girl in the college," she said to herself; "the
dearest, the sweetest, the prettiest, yet also the most tantalizing, the
most provoking, the most inconsequent. It is the greatest wonder she

has kept so long out of some serious scrape. She will never leave here
without doing something outrageous, and yet there isn't a girl in the
place to be named with her. I wish--" here Nancy sighed again and put
her hand to her brow as if to chase away some perplexity.
Then, after a moment's hesitation, she went up to the door of the room
next to Maggie's and knocked.
There was a moment's silence, then a constrained voice said:
"Come in."
Nancy entered at once.
Priscilla Peel was standing in the center of the room. The electric light
was turned on, revealing the bareness and absence of all ornament of
the apartment; a fire was laid in the grate but not lit, and Priscilla's ugly
square trunk, its canvas covering removed, stood in a prominent
position, half on the hearthrug, half on the square of carpet which
covered the center of the floor. Priscilla had taken off her jacket and hat.
She had washed her hands, and removed her muddy boots, and
smoothed out her straight, light brown hair. She looked what she felt--
a very stiff and unformed specimen of girlhood. There was a great lump
in her throat, brought there by mingled nervousness and home-sickness,
but that very fact only made her manner icy and repellent.
"Forgive me," said Nancy, blushing