A Sweet Girl Graduate

evening- "my dear and beloved Maggie, we

ed herself on a little stool at her feet. Nancy was a small, nervous-looking person; she had a zealous face and eager, almost too active m

gie again. "How are we

he spoke and contemplated it wit

out Miss Peel, that is all

Poor little Puritan

ar Annie Day and that pushing, silly little Lucy Marsh. I never saw any two look smaller or poorer than those two when they skedaddled out of her room. Yes, that's the word- they skedaddled to th

what did this wonderful Miss Peel do? Did she box the ears of tho

sh you had seen her! They were twitting her about not going in for all the fun here, and, above everything, for keeping her room so bare and unattractive. You know she has

out the room, I don't want to hear it

, her face was white. She sh

of holding all one's worldly goods, and she showed it to them- empty! 'You see,' she said, 'that I have no pictures nor ornaments here!' Then she turned the contents of her purse into her hand. I think, Maggie, she had about thirty shillings in the world, and she asked Lucy Marsh to count her money, and inquired how many things she thought it would purchase at Spilman's. Then, Maggie, Priscilla turned on them. Oh,

enough of her, and I expect, Maggie, your little Pu

Puritan," said Maggie. "I

r chair now; her face was still pal

"They make me feel so uncomfortable. If Priscilla Peel is going to be turned into

hate goodness. You know you adore it- you know you do! You know you are far and

for people always tell me so- but I'm not lovable and I'm not good. There, my dear, do let us turn from th

y much. I think we have both rather shunned her lately, and I did

nt before her face had been all eloquent with feeling; now its expression was

e kind if she had reciprocated attentions, but she did not. I am glad now, very glad, that we are unlikely to be

with Annie Day. I had almost

her, and Maggie closed her eyes

od people. I don't wish to think about good people. I am determined that I will not allow my thoughts to dwell on that unpleasant Priscilla Peel, and her pathetic pov

ack lashes lay heavily on her pale cheeks; her red lips were slightly parted; her breathing came quietly. By and by repose took the place of tension- her face looke

and turned her head. She was not awake, but she was dreaming. A faint rose tint visited each cheek, and she clenched one hand, then moved it, and laid it over the other. Presently tears

amp, so that the light might fall upon the pages of a book she was studying, and, pushing her hands t

er, O swift-w

then turning the page began to translate

er, and swift

and ocean with c

il

ll, and the all-se

o you

things that I, a

s of

s with which I a

suffer through

ful bondage which

Ones has inv

ail my present an

s no longer lacking in expression, no longer stricken with sorrow nor harrowed with unavailing regret. A fine fire filled her eyes; her brow, as she pushed back her hair, showed its rather massive proportions. Now, intellec

or; she started and tu

our. It was beginning to fill me: I was getting satisfied- now it's all over! I'd have had a good night if t

ted. Miss Oliphant

e said in a p

and a little fair-haired girl, with an infantile expression of face and looki

one really. That stupid Miss Turner chose to raise the alarm for the fire bri

bed, Rosalind; it's

d! I'll go in a minute.

admire my room another time. If you have a message for me, Rosalind, le

in with a quick, little, frightened dart and deposited a square envelope with some manly writing on it on the bureau, where Maggie had been studying Prometheus Vi

d- I- I said you should have it, and I- I promised that I'd help you,

out of her lips with the coldness of ice. "And if I need you- I-

her letter and

mething for his room. He--" Ros

She looked at the first two or three words

ould have done better- yes, undoubtedly better- had he sent his letter by post. There would have been no mystery a

ange come over her small childish face. Her blue eyes became full of angry flame

, and I'll watch- and watch. I don't love you any longer, Maggie Oliphant. Who loves being snubbed? Oh, of course, you pretend you do