“I know Maggie is going to be ill,” said Nancy with tears in her eyes.  Miss Banister was so sensible and so little given to undue alarms that her words had effect, and a little rumor spread in the college that Miss Oliphant could not take her part in the important rehearsals which were to take place that evening.  Her appearance, therefore, in more than her usual beauty, with more vigor in her voice, more energy and brightness in her eyes, gave at once a pleasing sense of satisfaction.  She was cheered when she entered the little theater, but, if there was a brief surprise, it was quickly succeeded by the comment which generally followed all her doings:  “This is just like Maggie; no one can depend on how she will act for a moment.”

At that rehearsal, however, people were taken by surprise.  If the Princess did well, the young Prince did better.  Priscilla had completely dropped her role of the awkward and gauche girl.  From the first there had been vigor and promise in her acting.  To-night there was not only vigor, but tenderness—­ there was a passion in her voice which arose now and then to power.  She was so completely in sympathy with her part that she ceased to be Priscilla:  she was the Prince who must win this wayward Princess or die.

Maggie came up to her when the rehearsals were over.

“I congratulate you,” she said.  “Prissie, you might do well on the stage.”

Priscilla smiled.  “No,” she said, “for I need inspiration to forget myself.”

“Well, genius would supply that.”

“No, Maggie, no.  The motive that seems to turn me into the Prince himself cannot come again.  Oh, Maggie, if I succeed!  If I succeed!”

“What do you mean, you strange child?”

“I cannot tell you with my voice:  don’t you guess?”

“I cannot say.  You move me strangely; you remind me of—­ I quite forget that you are Priscilla Peel.”

Priscilla laughed joyously.

“How gay you look to-night, Prissie, and yet I am told you were miserable this morning.  Have you forgotten your woes?”

“Completely.”

“Why is this?”

“I suppose because I am happy and hopeful.”

“Nancy tells me that you were quite in despair to-day.  She said that some of those cruel girls insulted you.”

“Yes, I was very silly; I got a shock.”

“And you have got over it?”

“Yes; I know you don’t believe badly of me.  You know that I am honest and—­ and true.”

“Yes, my dear,” said Maggie with fervor, “I believe in you as I believe in myself.  Now, have you quite disrobed?  Shall we go into the library for a little?”

The moment they entered this cheerful room, which was bright with two blazing fires and numerous electric lights, Miss Day and Miss Marsh came up eagerly to Maggie.

“Well,” they said, “have you made up your mind?”

“About what?” she asked, raising her eyes in a puzzled way.