Chapter Eighteen.
A Black Self and a White Self.
“It is quite true, Maggie,” said Nancy Banister. “It is about the auction. Yes, there is no doubt about that. What possessed you to go?”
Maggie Oliphant was standing in the centre of her own room with an open letter in her hand. Nancy was reading it over her shoulder:—
“Katharine Hall,—
“December 3.
“Miss Eccleston and Miss Heath request Miss Oliphant and Miss Peel to present themselves in Miss Eccleston’s private sitting-room this evening at seven o’clock.”
“That is all,” said Maggie. “It sounds as solemn and unfriendly as if one were about to be tried for some capital offence.”
“It’s the auction, of course,” repeated Nancy. “Those girls thought they had kept it so quiet; but someone must have ‘peached,’ I suppose, to curry favour. Whatever made you go, Maggie? You know you have never mixed yourself up with that Day, and Merton, and Marsh set. As to that poor Polly Singleton, there’s no harm in her, but she’s a perfect madcap. What could have possessed you to go?”
“My evil genius,” repeated Maggie, in a gloomy tone. “You don’t suppose I wished to be there, Nancy; but that horrid little Merton girl said something taunting, and then I forgot myself. Oh, dear, Nancy! what shall I ever do with that other self of mine? It will ruin me in the end. It gets stronger every day.”
Maggie sat down on the sofa. Nancy suddenly knelt by her side.