Matters were still very much in a state of chaos, but the
rehearsal of some of the parts was got through with credit under the
directions of the clever stage-manager, one of the nicest and best
girls in the college, Constance Field. She had a knack of putting each
girl at her ease-- of discovering the faintest sparks of genius and
fanning them into flame.
Priscilla had learned her speeches accurately: her turn came; she
stood up trembling and began. Gradually the stony (or was it
yearning?) look in Maggie's face moved her. She fancied herself
Hammond, not the Prince. When she spoke to Maggie she felt no longer
like a feeble schoolgirl acting a part. She thought she was pleading
for Hammond, and enthusiasm got into her voice, and a light filled her
eyes. There was a little cheer when Priscilla got through her first
rehearsal. Nancy Banister came up to Rosalind.
"I do believe Maggie is right," she said, "and that Miss Peel will
take the part capitally."
"Miss Oliphant is well known for her magnanimity," retorted Rosalind,
an ugly look spoiling the expression of her face.
"Her magnanimity? What do you mean, Rose?"
"To choose that girl for her Prince!" retorted Rosalind. "Ask Mr.
Hammond what I mean. Ask the Elliot-Smiths.
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