“Still here, Prissie!” she exclaimed, in her somewhat indifferent but good-natured voice. “What a bookworm you are turning into!”
“I have been waiting for you to help me, if you will, Maggie,” said Priscilla. “I have lost the right clue to the full sense of this passage—see! Can you give it to me?”
Maggie sat down at once, took up the book, glanced her eyes over the difficult words, and translated them with ease.
“How lovely!” said Prissie, clasping her hands, and giving herself up to a feeling of enjoyment. “Don’t stop, Maggie, please; do read some more!” Miss Oliphant smiled.
“Enthusiast!” she murmured.
She translated with brilliancy to the end of the page; then, throwing the book on her knee, repeated the whole passage aloud in Greek.
The note that Prissie put in as a mark fell on the floor. She was so lost in delighted listening that she did not notice it, but, when Maggie at last stopped for want of breath, Priscilla saw the little note, stooped forward to pick it up, glanced at the handwriting, and a shadow swept over her expressive face.
“Oh! thank you, Maggie, thank you,” she exclaimed; “it is beautiful, entrancing! It made me forget everything for a short time, but I must not listen to any more; it is, indeed, most beautiful; but not for me.”
“What do you mean, you little goose? You will soon read Euripides as well as I do. What is more, you will surpass me, Priscilla; your talent is greater than mine.”
“Don’t say that, Maggie; I can scarcely bear it when you do.”