“You look surprised, Annie,” said Priscilla. “Nevertheless, no less a thing has happened than that I am going to Paris too. Lady Lushington has invited me, and as she is good enough to pay all my expenses, you and I are travelling together. I had no time to let you know, or I would have done so. I hope you are pleased. But I don’t suppose,” added Priscilla, “that it makes much difference whether you are pleased or not.”
“I don’t suppose it does,” answered Annie, who was secretly very much annoyed. “Well, of course,” she continued, “we had best travel in the same carriage.”
The girls found their seats, and after a time, when the bustle of departure was over, Annie turned to Priscilla.
“How has this come about?” she asked.
“It was Mabel’s doing;” said Priscilla—“Mabel’s, and partly, I think, Mrs Lyttelton’s. Mrs Lyttelton found it rather inconvenient to keep me at the school during the holidays, for a good many of the rooms are to be redecorated. I couldn’t go to Uncle Josiah; and I cannot tell you how or why, but I had a long letter from Mabel, most jolly and affectionate, asking me to join her aunt and herself, and telling me that you would be sure to be of the party. There was enclosed a letter from Lady Lushington, sending me a cheque; and although I scarcely care for this sort of invitation, yet I have been forced to accept it. I am on my way now to share your fun. I can quite well believe that this is not agreeable to you, but it really cannot be helped.”
“Oh, agreeable or disagreeable, we must make the best of it,” said Annie. “Of coarse,” she added, “I am glad to have a companion. There’s no reason, Priscilla, why we should not be the best of friends. It did seem rather funny, at first, to think of you, of all people, joining this expedition. But if you are not sorry to be with me, I don’t see why I should not be pleased to be with you.”
“Were I to choose,” said Priscilla, “I would much prefer not to be either with you or Mabel. But that is neither here nor there. I have done wrong; I am very unhappy. I suppose I shall go on doing wrong now to the end of the chapter. But I don’t want to bother you about it. Let us look out of the window and enjoy the scenery. I suppose that is the correct thing to do.”
Annie still felt a strong sense of irritation. How hard she had worked to get this pleasure for herself, and now, was Priscilla, of all people, to damp her joys? Whatever her faults, however, Annie Brooke was outwardly good-natured and essentially good-tempered. There are a great many people of this sort in the world. They are lacking in principle and sadly wanting in sincerity, but nevertheless they are pleasant to be with. They show the sunny side of their character on most occasions, and in small matters are fairly unselfish and inclined to make the best of things.
Annie now, after a brief time of reflection, made up her mind to make the best of Priscilla. Priscilla was not to her taste. She was too conscientious and, in Annie’s opinion, far too narrow-minded. Nevertheless, they were outwardly very good friends, and must continue to act their parts. So on board the steamer she made herself pleasant, and useful also, to poor Priscilla, who felt the motion of the boat considerably, and had, in short, a bad time. Annie, who was never seasick in her life, won golden opinions while on board for her goodness and consideration to Priscilla; and when, finally, they were ensconced in two comfortable seats en route for Paris, her spirits rose high. She put aside all disagreeable memories and gave herself up to enjoyment.
“We shall have fun,” she said. “We must make the very best of things; we must forget all school disagreeables.”