I need
not tell you what I have heard at all, unless you wish to hear it."
"But, of course, I wish to hear it, Rosie; you know that as well as I
do. Now sit down and make yourself at home; there's a dear."
Rose allowed herself to be mollified.
"Well," she said, sinking back into Miss Day's most comfortable chair,
"the feud between a certain small person and a certain great person
grows apace."
Miss Day's small eyes began to dance.
"You know I am interested in that subject," she said. She flopped down
on the floor by Rosalind Merton's side. "Go on, my love," she
murmured; "describe the development of the enmity."
"Little things show the way the wind is blowing," pursued Rose. "I was
coming along the corridor just now, and I met the angelic and
unworldly Priscilla. Her eyelids were red as if she had been crying.
She passed me without a word."
"Well?"
"That's all."
"Rose, you really are too provoking. I thought you had something very
fine to tell."
"The feud grows," pursued Rose. "I know it by many signs. Prissie is
not half so often with Maggie as she used to be. Maggie means to get
out of this friendship, but she is too proud not to do it gradually.
There is not a more jealous girl in this college than Maggie, but
neither is there a prouder.
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