As they entered the town they saw Rosalind Merton coming to meet them. There was nothing in this, for Rosalind was a gay young person, and had many friends in Kingsdene. Few days passed that did not see her in the old town on her way to visit this friend or that, or to perpetrate some little piece of extravagance at Spilman’s or at her dressmaker’s.
On this occasion, however, Rosalind was neither at Spilman’s or the dressmaker’s. She was walking demurely down the High Street, daintily dressed and charming to look at, in Hammond’s company. Rosalind was talking eagerly and earnestly, and Hammond, who was very tall, was bending down to catch her words, when the other three girls came briskly round a corner, and in full view of the pair.
“Oh!” exclaimed Priscilla aloud, in her abrupt, startled way. Her face became suffused with a flood of the deepest crimson, and Maggie, who felt a little annoyed at seeing Hammond in Rosalind’s company, could not help noticing Prissie’s almost uncontrollable agitation.
Rosalind, too, blushed, but prettily, when she saw the other three girls come up.
“I will say good-bye, now, Mr Hammond,” she said, “for I must get back to St. Benet’s in good time to-night.”
She held out her hand, which the young man took, and shook cordially.
“I am extremely obliged to you,” he said.
Maggie was near enough to hear his words. Rosalind tripped past her three fellow-students with an airy little nod, and the faint beginning of a mocking curtsy.
Hammond came up to the three girls and joined them at once.
“Are you going to the Marshalls’?” he said to Maggie.