“Miss Peel must have thanked you for taking her.”

“Thanked me?  That’s not Miss Prissie’s style.  I could see she was awfully vexed at being disturbed.”

“Well, it’s rather shabby,” said Polly Singleton, speaking for the first time.  “Every one at St. Benet’s know whom Mr. Hammond belongs.”

“Yes, yes, of course, of course,” cried several voices.

“And Maggie has been so kind to Miss Peel,” continued Polly.

“Yes—­ shame!—­ how mean of little Propriety!” the voices echoed again.

Rosalind gave a meaning glance at Annie Day.  Annie raised her eyebrows, looked interrogative, then her face subsided into a satisfied expression.  She asked no further questions, but she gave Rosalind an affectionate pat on the shoulder.

Soon the other girls came up one by one to say good night.  Rosalind, Annie and Lucy were alone.  They drew their chairs together and began to talk.

CHAPTER XVI

 Pretty little Rosalind

“I have done it now,” said Rosalind; “the estrangement will come about naturally.  Propriety won’t head a party at this college, for she will not have Miss Oliphant’s support.  My dear girls, we need do nothing further.  The friendship we regretted is at an end.”

“Did you take Priscilla Peel to the Elliot-Smiths’ on purpose, then?” asked Miss Day.

“I took her there for my own purposes,” replied Rosalind.  “I wanted to go.  I could not go alone, as it is against our precious rules.  It was not convenient for any of my own special friends to come with me, so I thought I’d play Prissie a nice little trick.  Oh, wasn’t she angry!  My dear girls, it was as good as a play to watch her face.”

Rosalind lay back in her chair and laughed heartily.  Her laughter was as melodious as the sound of silver bells.

“Well,” said Miss Marsh after a pause, “I wish you would stop laughing and go on with your story, Rose.”

Rosalind resumed her grave deportment.

“That’s all,” she said; “there’s nothing more to tell.”

“Did you know, then, that Mr. Hammond would be there?”

“No, I had not the least idea that piece of luck would fall in my way.  Meta managed that for me most delightfully.  You know, girls, how earnestly the poor dear Elliot-Smiths aspire, and how vain are their efforts, to get into what we are pleased to call the ‘good set’ here.  It isn’t their fault, poor things, for, though they really have no talent nor the smallest literary desires, they would give their eyes to be ‘hail-fellows-well-met’ with some of our intellectual giants.  Well, Meta got to know Mr. Hammond at a tennis party in the summer, and when she met him last week she asked him to come to her house to-day.  She told me she was dying to have him, of course, but when she asked him she could see by his face and manner that he was searching his brains for an excuse to get out of it.  All of a sudden it flashed into her head to say, ’Some of our friends from St. Benet’s will be present.’  The moment she said this he changed and got very polite and said he would certainly look in for a little while.  Poor Meta was so delighted!  You can fancy her chagrin when he devoted himself all the time to Prissie.”