“Would you like me to stay with you, auntie?”
“No, my dear; you help me upstairs, and I’ll get into bed. You ought to be in your own bed, too, Prissie. Young creatures ought never to sit up late, and you have a journey before you to-morrow.”
“Yes; but would you like me not to take the journey? I am strong, and could do all the work, and you might rest not only at night, but in the day. You might rest always, if I stayed here.”
Aunt Raby was wide-awake now, and her eyes were very bright.
“Do you mean what you say, Priscilla?” she asked.
“Yes, I do. You have the first right to me. If you want me, I’ll stay.”
“You’ll give up that outlandish Greek, and all that babel of foreign tongues, and your fine friends, and your grand college, and your hopes of being a famous woman by-and-by? Do you mean this, Prissie, seriously?”
“Yes, if you want me.”
“And you say I have the first claim on you?”
“I do.”