"I'll take you into our fern-house, which is just beyond here," she
said. "We have got such exquisite maidenhairs and such a splendid
Killarney fern. Come; you shall see."
The fern-house seemed to be deserted. Helen opened the door first and
ran forward. Prissie followed. The fern-house was not large; they had
almost reached the end when a girl stood up suddenly and confronted
them. The girl was Maggie Oliphant. She was sitting there alone. Her
face was absolutely colorless and tears were lying wet on her
eyelashes.
Maggie made a swift remark, a passing jest, and hurried past the two
into the conservatory.
Priscilla could scarcely tell why, but at that moment she lost all
interest in both ferns and flowers. The look of misery on Maggie's
face seemed to strike her own heart like a chill.
"You look tired," said Helen Marshall, who had not noticed Maggie's
tearful eyes.
"Perhaps I am," answered Prissie.
They went back again into the drawing-room. Prissie still could see
nothing but Miss Oliphant's eyes and the look of distress on her pale
face.
Helen suddenly made a remark.
"Was there ever such a merry creature as Maggie?" she said. "Do look
at her now."
Prissie raised her eyes. Miss Oliphant was the center of a gay group,
among whom Geoffrey Hammond stood.
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