A Sweet Girl Graduate | Page 3

Hattie and Rose lay down side by side and closed their eyes. In a few moments they were sound asleep.
As they lay in the sound, happy sleep of healthy childhood Priscilla bent over them and kissed them. Then before she lay down herself she knelt by the window, looked up at the clear, dark sky in which the moon sailed in majesty, bent her head, murmured a few words of prayer, then crept into bed by her little sister's side.
Prissie felt full of courage and good resolves. She was going out into the world to-morrow, and she was quite determined that the world should not conquer her, although she knew that she was a very poor maiden with a specially heavy load of care on her young shoulders.
CHAPTER II
THE DELIGHTS OF BEING A FRESHER
THE college was quite shut away in its own grounds, and only from the upper windows did the girls get a peep of the old university town of Kingsdene. From these, however, particularly in the winter, they could see the gabled colleges, the chapels with their rich glory of architecture and the smooth lawns of the college gardens as they sloped gently down to the river.
St. Benet's, the college for women, was approached by a private road, and high entrance gates obstructed the gaze of the curious. Inside there were cheerful halls and pleasant gardens and gay, fresh, unrestrained life. But the passer-by got no peep of these things unless the high gates happened to be open.
This was the first evening of term, and most of the girls were back. There was nothing very particular going on, and they were walking about the gardens, and greeting old friends, and telling each other their experiences, and more or less picking up the threads which had been broken or loosened in the long vacation.
The evenings were drawing in, but the pleasant twilight which was soon to be rendered brilliant by the full moon seemed to the girls even nicer than broad daylight to linger about in. They did not want to go into the houses; they flitted about in groups here and there, chatting and laughing merrily.
St. Benet's had three halls, each with its own vice-principal, and a certain number of resident students. Each hall stood in its own grounds and was more or less a complete home in itself. There were resident lecturers and demonstrators for the whole college and one lady principal, who took the lead and was virtually head of the college.
Miss Vincent was the name of the present principal. She was an old lady and had a vice-principal under her at Vincent Hall, the largest and newest of these spacious homes, where young women received the advantages of university instruction to prepare them for the battle of life.
Priscilla was to live at Heath Hall-- a slightly smaller house, which stood at a little distance away-- its grounds being divided from the grounds of Vincent Hall by means of a rustic paling. Miss Heath was the very popular vice-principal of this hall, and Prissie was considered a fortunate girl to obtain a home in her house. She sat now a forlorn and rather scared young person, huddled up in one corner of the fly which turned in at the wide gates, and finally deposited her and her luggage at the back entrance of Heath Hall.
Priscilla looked out in the darkness of the autumn night with frightened eyes. She hated herself for feeling nervous. She had told Aunt Raby that, of course, she would have no silly tremors, yet here she was trembling and scarcely able to pay the cabman his fare.
She heard a girl's laugh in the distance, and it caused her to start so violently that she dropped one of her few treasured sixpences, which went rolling about aimlessly almost under the horse's hoofs.
"Stop a minute, I'll find it for you," said a voice. A tall girl with big, brown eyes suddenly darted into view, picked up the sixpence as if by magic, popped it into Priscilla's hand and then vanished. Priscilla knew that this was the girl who had laughed; she heard her laughing again as she turned to join some one who was standing beside a laurel hedge. The two linked their arms together and walked off in the darkness.
"Such a frightened poor fresher!" said the girl who had picked up the sixpence 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