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Updated: June 5, 2025
Did she stand on a chair and lecture the frivolous people who assemble in that house on the emptiness of life? Oh, how I wish I could have looked on at the fun!" "You'd have beheld an edifying sight then, my dear," said Rosalind. "Prissie's whole behavior was one to be copied. No words can describe her tact and grace." "But what did she do, Rosie? I wish you would speak out and tell us.
She attended as few lectures as were compatible with her remaining there, but French happened to be one of the subjects which she thought it well to take up, and she appeared now by Prissie's side with the invariable notebook, without which no girl went to lecture, in her hand. "Isn't it cold?" she said, shivering and raising her pretty face to Priscilla's.
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.
Their shrill laughter reached Prissie's ears, also their words. They complimented one another, but talked scandal of their neighbors. They called somebody who Prissie could not imagine " a certain lady," and spoke of how she was angling to get a footing in society, and how the good set at Kingsdene would certainly never have anything to do with her or hers.
With a swift flash her brown eyes sought Priscilla's face; she had not meant to look at her, she did not want to; but a fascination she could not control obliged her to dart this one glance of inquiry. Prissie's eyes met hers. Their expression was anxious, puzzled, but there was not a trace of guilt or confusion in them.
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