The room was crowded with knick-knacks and
rendered gay and sweet by many tall flowers in pots. A piano stood
open by one of the walls and a violin lay carelessly on a chair not
far off. There were piles of new music and some tempting, small,
neatly bound books lying about. A fire glowed on the hearth and a
little brass kettle sang merrily on the hob. The cocoa-table was drawn
up in front of the fire and on a quaintly shaped tray stood the bright
little cocoa-pot and the oddly devised cups and saucers.
"Welcome to St. Benet's!" said Maggie, going up and taking Priscilla's
hand cordially within her own. "Now you'll have to get into this low
chair and make yourself quite at home and happy."
"How snug you are here," said Prissie, her eyes brightening and a pink
color mounting into her cheeks. She was glad that Maggie was alone;
she felt more at ease with her than with any one, but the next moment
she said with a look of apparent regret:
"I thought Miss Banister was in your room?"
"No; Nancy has gone to her own room at the end of the corridor to do
some work for an hour. She will come back to say good night. She
always does. Are you sorry to have me by myself?"
"Indeed I am not," said Priscilla. The smile, which made her rather
plain face attractive, crept slowly back to it.
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