“Maggie is my friend, so you need not abuse her, Rosalind.”
“Lucky for her that she has got one true friend!” retorted Rosalind.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean what I say. Maggie is making such a fool of herself that we are all laughing at her behind her back.”
“Indeed? I fail to understand you.”
“You are being made a fool of, too, Nancy. Oh, I did think you’d have had more sense.”
“How? Speak. Say at once what you want to say, Rosalind, and stop talking riddles, for I must fly to my work.”
“Fly, then,” retorted Rosalind, “only think twice before you give your confidence to a certain person. A person who makes a fine parade of poverty and so-called honesty of purpose, but who can, and who does, betray her kindest and best friend behind her back. It is my private belief we have to thank this virtuous being for getting us into the pleasant scrape we are in. I am convinced she has tried to curry favour by telling Miss Heath all about poor Polly’s auction.”
“You mean Priscilla Peel?” said Nancy, in a firm voice. She forgot her German lecture now. “You have no right to say words of that kind. You have taken a dislike to Prissie, no one knows why. She is not as interesting nor as beautiful as Maggie, but she is good, and you should respect her.”
Rosalind laughed bitterly.