Hastily seating herself in front of her bureau, Rosalind scribbled a few lines:—
“Dearest, Precious Mamsie—
“Whatever happens, please send me a postal order for 10 pounds by return. One of the richest girls in the place is going to have an auction, and I shall pick up some treasures. If you could spare 15 pounds, or even 20 pounds, the money would be well spent, but ten at least I must have. There is a sealskin jacket, which cost at least eighty pounds, and such coral ornaments—you know, that lovely pink shade. Send me all you can, precious mamsie, and make your Baby happy.
“Your own little Rose.
“P.S.—Oh, mamsie, such a sealskin! and such coral!”
This artless epistle was quickly enclosed in an envelope, addressed, and deposited in the post-box. Afterwards pretty little Rosalind spent a night of dreamless slumber, and awoke in the morning as fresh and innocent-looking as the fairest of the babies she compared herself to.
Chapter Seventeen.
Sealskin and Pink Coral.
Monday arrived. It wanted now less than three weeks to the end of the term. A good many girls were talking about home and Christmas, and already the hard-worked, the studious, the industrious were owning to the first symptoms of that pleasant fatigue which would entitle them to the full enjoyment of their merited holiday.
Priscilla was now a happy girl. She had found her niche in the college; her work was delightful. Under Maggie’s advice she became a member of the Debating Society, and rather reluctantly allowed her name to be entered in the Dramatic Club. She felt very shy about this, but that was because she did not know her own power. To her astonishment, Priscilla found that she could act. If the part suited her she could throw herself into it so that she ceased to be awkward, ungainly Priscilla Peel. Out of herself she was no longer awkward, no longer ungainly. She could only personate certain characters; light and airy parts she could not attempt, but where much depended on passion and emotion Priscilla could do splendidly. Every day her friends found fresh points of interest in this queer girl. Nancy Banister was really attached to her, Maggie was most faithful in her declared friendship, and Miss Heath took more notice of Priscilla than of any other girl in the Hall. The different lecturers spoke highly of Miss Peel’s comprehension, knowledge, and ability. In short, things were going well with her, and she owned to her own heart that she had never felt happier in her life.
Prissie, too, was looking forward to the Christmas holidays. She was to return home then, and her letters to her three little sisters, to Aunt Raby, and to Mr Hayes were full of the delights of her college life.