"There are unkind things being said
of Maggie, and there's one girl who is horrid to her-- horrid! I want
you not to believe a word that girl says."
"What girl do you mean?"
"You were walking with her just now."
"Really, Miss Peel, you are the most extraordinary--"
But Maggie Oliphant's clear, sweet voice interrupted them.
"Had we not better come into the house?" she said. "The door has been
open for quite half a minute."
Poor Prissie rushed in first, covered with shame; Miss Field hastened
after, to bear her company; and Hammond and Maggie brought up the
rear.
CHAPTER XX
A PAINTER
THE Marshalls were always at home to their friend on Friday
afternoons, and there were already several guests in the beautiful,
quaint old drawing-room when the quartet entered. Mrs. Marshall, her
white hair looking lovely under her soft lace cap, came forward to
meet her visitors. Her kind eyes looked with appreciation and welcome
at one and all. Blushing and shame-faced Prissie received a pleasant
word of greeting, which seemed in some wonderful way to steady her
nerves. Hammond and Maggie were received as special and very dear
friends, and Helen Marshall, the old lady's pretty grand-daughter,
rushed forward to embrace her particular friend, Constance Field.
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