against a dark velvet cushion, looked as if she enjoyed thesituation immensely.
"What do you say to a Senior Wrangler?" she asked, in a gentle voice.
"Rosalind, what--not _the_ Senior Wrangler?" Rosalind nodded.
"Oh! oh! oh! what could he see--Geoffrey Hammond, of all people! He'sso exclusive, too."
"Well," said Hetty Jones, standing up reluctantly, for she felt it wastime to return to her neglected studies, "wonders will never cease! Icould not have supposed that Mr Hammond would condescend to go near theElliot-Smiths', and most certainly I should never have guessed that hewould look at a girl like Priscilla Peel."
"Well, he flirted with her," said Rosalind, "and she with him. Theywere so delighted with one another that I could scarcely get Prissieaway when it was time to leave. They looked quite engrossed--you knowthe kind of air--there was no mistaking it!"
"Miss Peel must have thanked you for taking her."
"Thanked me? That's not Miss Prissie's style. I could see she wasawfully vexed at being disturbed."
"Well, it's rather shabby," said Polly Singleton, speaking for the firsttime. "Everyone at St Benet's knows to whom Mr Hammond belongs."
"Yes, yes, of course, of course," cried several voices.
"And Maggie has been so kind to Miss Peel," continued Polly.
"Yes--shame!--how mean of little Propriety!" the voices echoed again.
Rosalind gave a meaning glance at Annie Day. Annie raised her eyebrows,looked interrogative, then her face subsided into a satisfiedexpression. She asked no further questions, but she gave Rosalind anaffectionate pat on the shoulder.
Soon the other girls came up one by one to say good-night. Rosalind,Annie, and Lucy were alone. They drew their chairs together, and beganto talk.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
PRETTY LITTLE ROSALIND.
"I have done it now," said Rosalind; "the estrangement will come aboutnaturally. Propriety won't head a party at this college, for she willnot have Miss Oliphant's support. My dear girls, we need do nothingfurther. The friendship we regretted is at an end."
"Did you take Priscilla Peel to the Elliot-Smiths' on purpose, then?"asked Miss Day.
"I took her there for my own purposes," replied Rosalind. "I wanted togo. I could not go alone, as it is against our precious rules. It wasnot convenient for any of my own special friends to come with me, so Ithought I'd play Prissie a nice little trick. Oh, wasn't she angry! Mydear girls, it was as good as a play to watch her face."
Rosalind lay back in her chair and laughed heartily. Her laughter wasas melodious as the sound of silver bells.
"Well," said Miss Marsh, after a pause, "I wish you would stop laughingand go on with your story, Rose."
Rosalind resumed her grave deportment.
"That's all," she said; "there's nothing, more to tell."
"Did you know, then, that Mr Hammond would be there?"
"No, I had not the least idea that piece of luck would fall in my way.Meta managed that for me most delightfully. You know, girls, howearnestly the poor dear Elliot-Smiths aspire, and how vain are theirefforts, to get into what we are pleased to call the `good set' here.It isn't their fault, poor things, for, though they really have notalent nor the smallest literary desires, they would give their eyes tobe `hail-fellows-well-met' with some of our intellectual giants. Well,Meta got to know Mr Hammond at a tennis party in the summer, and whenshe met him last week she asked him to come to her house to-day. Shetold me she was dying to have him, of course, but when she asked him shecould see by his face and manner that he was searching his brains for anexcuse to get out of it. All of a sudden it flashed into her head tosay, `Some of our friends from St Benet's will be present.' The momentshe said this he changed, and got very polite, and said he wouldcertainly look in for a little while. Poor Meta was so delighted! Youcan fancy her chagrin when he devoted himself all the time to Prissie."
"He thought he'd meet Maggie Oliphant," said Annie Day; "it was a shameto lure him on with a falsehood. I don't wonder at people notrespecting the Elliot-Smiths."
"My dear," responded Rosalind, "Meta did not tell a lie. I never couldhave guessed that you were strait-laced, Annie."
"Nor am I," responded Annie, with a sigh, which she quickly suppressed.
"The whole thing fitted in admirably with our wishes," continued Rose,"and now we need not do anything further in the matter. Rumour, in theshape of Hetty Jones's tongue, and Polly Singleton's hints, will do therest for us."
"Do you really think that Maggie Oliphant cares for Mr Hammond?" askedLucy Marsh.
"Cares for him!" said Rosalind. "Does a duck swim? Does a baby likesweet things? Maggie is so much in love with Mr Hammond that she'salmost ill about it--there!"
"Nonsense!" exclaimed the other two girls.
"She is, I know she is. She treats him shamefully, because of some whimof hers. I only wish she may never get him."
"He'd do nicely for you, wouldn't he, Rose?" said Annie Day.
A delicate pink came into Rosalind's cheeks. She rose to leave theroom.
"Mr Hammond is not in my style," she said. "Much too severe and toolearned. Good-night, girls. I must look over the notes of thatwretched French lecture before I go to bed."
Rosalind sought her own room, which was in another corridor. It waslate now--past eleven o'clock. The electric light had been put out.She was well supplied with candles, however, and lighting two on themantelpiece and two on her bureau, she proceeded to stir up her fire andto make her room warm and cosy.
Rosalind still wore the pretty light silk which had given her such anelegant appearance at the Elliot-Smiths' that afternoon. Securing thebolt of her door, she pushed aside a heavy curtain, which concealed thepart of her room devoted to her wardrobe, washing apparatus, etc.Rosalind's wardrobe had a glass door, and she could see her _petite_figure in it from head to foot. It was a very small figure, butexquisitely proportioned. Its owner admired it much. She turnedherself round, took up a hand-glass, and surveyed herself in profile,and many other positions. Then, taking off her pretty dress, shearrayed herself in a long white muslin dressing-robe, and letting downher golden hair, combed out the glittering masses. They fell in showersbelow her waist. Her face looked more babyish and innocent than ever asit smiled to its own fair image in the glass.
"How he did scowl at me!" said Rosalind, suddenly speaking aloud. "ButI had to say it. I was determined to find out for myself how much orhow little he cares for Maggie Oliphant, and, alas! there's nothing ofthe `little' in his affection. Well, well! I did not do badly to-day.I enjoyed myself, and I took a nice rise out of that disagreeable MissPeel. Now _must_ I look through those horrid French notes? Need I?"She pirouetted on one toe in front of the glass. The motion exhilaratedher, and, raising her white wrapper so as to get a peep at her small,pretty feet, she waltzed slowly and gracefully in front of the mirror.
"I can't and won't study to-night," she said again. "I hate study, andI will not spoil my looks by burning the midnight oil."
Suddenly she clasped her hands, and the colour rushed into her cheeks.
"How fortunate that I remembered! I must write to mother this verynight. This is Thursday. The auction is on Monday. I have not a postto lose."
Hastily seating herself in front of her bureau, Rosalind scribbled a fewlines:--
"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 wa
s quickly enclosed in an envelope, addressed, anddeposited in the post-box. Afterwards pretty little Rosalind spent anight of dreamless slumber, and awoke in the morning as fresh andinnocent-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 theterm. A good many girls were talking about home and Christmas, andalready the hard-worked, the studious, the industrious were owning tothe first symptoms of that pleasant fatigue which would entitle them tothe full enjoyment of their