"But still," echoed Priscilla.
"Oh, nothing, except that I like Mrs. Brownville's letter so much better. She says that I have been a great help to Herbert this summer—keeping him away from a set of young men the family didn't care for, and giving him ideals. I shouldn't expect Mrs. Brownville to know an ideal when she saw it. However, I dare say she's right, only it was unconscious goodness on my part. I didn't know Herbert had to be kept away from any set of foolish companions. I simply found him good company, and I am so used to giving advice to Lucian and Robert that I naturally favored Herbert in the same way. Then he was tremendously good in reading Latin with me. Except for this accident I should have been ahead of you, Prissie dear."
"I should like to have seen Herbert Brownville."
"Yes, it's a pity he had to go back to college before you came. But you'll see him in Boston some time."
"When do you expect your father?" asked Priscilla.
"Oh, in a week—just think of it—in a week, and he is almost well, and although he has lost money, things are not going to be so very dreadful,—not at all as I feared. I looked too far ahead."
"Yes," said Priscilla, mischievously, "jumping at conclusions is almost as bad as borrowing trouble. They mean much the same thing."
"I am not so sure. I cannot imagine a slow, deliberate person like you jumping at conclusions, though I have known you to borrow trouble."
"Sometimes I am very hasty," responded Priscilla, slowly, as if reflecting on something. "There is one thing I ought to tell you. Do you remember your prize essay last spring?"
"Oh, yes, but I didn't set out to get a prize."