Prissie knew-- she reflected to
her horror that she had not the moral courage to walk about those
drawing-rooms hunting for Rose.
Two or three exquisitely dressed but frivolous-looking women stood in
a group not far from the window where Priscilla sat forlorn. They
talked about the cut of their mantles and the price they had given for
their new winter bonnets. Their shrill laughter reached Prissie's
ears, also their words. They complimented one another, but talked
scandal of their neighbors. They called somebody-- who Prissie could
not imagine--" a certain lady," and spoke of how she was angling to
get a footing in society, and how the good set at Kingsdene would
certainly never have anything to do with her or hers.
"She's taking up those wretched girl graduates," said one of these
gossips to her neighbor. Then her eye fell upon Prissie. She said
"Hush!" in an audible tone, and the little party moved away out of
earshot.
The minute hand of the clock on the mantel-piece pointed to nearly
half-past five. Poor Prissie felt her miseries grow almost
intolerable. Tears of mortification and anguish were forcing
themselves to her eyes. She felt that, in addition to having lost so
many hours of study, she would get into a serious scrape at St.
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