Whenever Aunt
Raby died, Priscilla and her three sisters would be penniless.
"So I have come to you," continued Prissie, "to say that I must take
steps at once to enable me to earn money. I must support Hattie and
Rose and Katie whenever Aunt Raby goes. I must earn money as soon as
it is possible for a girl to do so, and I must stop dreaming and
thinking of nothing but books, for perhaps books and I will have
little to say to each other in future."
"That would be sad," replied Mr. Hayes, "for that would be taking a
directly opposite direction to the path which Providence clearly
intends you to walk in."
Priscilla raised her eyes and looked earnestly at the old rector.
Then, clasping her hands tightly together, she said with suppressed
passion:
"Why do you encourage me to be selfish, Mr. Hayes?"
"I will not," he replied, answering her look; "I will listen patiently
to all you have to say. How do you propose to earn bread for yourself
and your sisters?"
"I thought of dressmaking."
"Um! Did you-- make-- the gown you have on?"
"Yes," replied Priscilla, looking down at her ungainly homespun
garment.
The rector rose to his feet and smiled in the most sweet and
benevolent way.
"I am no judge of such matters," he said, "and I may be wrong.
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