“Nor is she—I scarcely know her; but when she asked me to go out with her, I could not very well say no.”
“I suppose not; but I am sorry, all the same, for it is not a fit day for anyone to be abroad, and Rosalind is such a giddy pate. Well, come back as soon as you can. Maggie and I are going to have a jolly time, and we only wish you were with us.”
Nancy nodded brightly, and took her leave, and Priscilla, putting on her waterproof and her shabbiest hat, went down into the hall to meet Rosalind.
Rosalind was also in waterproof, but her hat was extremely pretty and becoming, and Priscilla fancied she got a glimpse of a gay silk dress under the waterproof cloak.
“Oh, how quite too sweet of you to be ready!” said Rosalind, with effusion. She took Prissie’s hand and squeezed it affectionately, and the two girls set off.
The walk was a dreary one, for Kingsdene, one of the most beautiful places in England in fine weather, lies so low, that in the winter months fogs are frequent, and the rain is almost incessant, so that then the atmosphere is always damp and chilly. By the time the two girls had got into the High Street, Prissie’s thick, sensible boots were covered with mud, and Rosalind’s thin ones felt very damp to her feet.
They soon reached the quarter where the dressmaker, Miss Forbes, lived. Prissie was asked to wait downstairs, and Rosalind ran up several flights of stairs to fulfil her mission. She came back at the end of a few minutes, looking bright and radiant.
“I am sorry to have kept you waiting, Miss Peel,” she said, “but my boots were so muddy that Miss Forbes insisted on polishing them up for me.”
“Well, we can go home now, I suppose?” said Prissie.
“Ye-es; only as we are here, would you greatly mind our going round by Bouverie Street? I want to inquire for a friend of mine, Mrs Elliot-Smith. She has not been well.”