you do look!”
“I feel cold – in spirit as well as physically,” retorted Priscilla.
“Well, let breakfast warm you – and – and – a small dose of the tonic of sympathy, if I may dare to offer it.”
Priscilla turned her eyes full upon Miss Oliphant.
“Do you mean it?” she said, in a choked kind of voice. “Is that quite true what you said just now?”
“True? What a queer child! Of course it is true. What do you take me for? Why should not I sympathise with you?”
“I want you to,” said Prissie. Tears filled her eyes; she turned her head away. Maggie gave her hand a squeeze.
“Now eat your breakfast,” she said. “I shall glance through my letters while you are busy.”
She leant back in her chair, and opened several envelopes. Priscilla ate her chicken and ham, drank her coffee, and felt the benefit of the double tonic which had been administered in so timely a fashion. It was one of Miss Oliphant’s peculiarities to inspire in those she wanted to fascinate absolute and almost unreasoning faith for the time being. Doubts would and might return in her absence, but in the sunshine of her particularly genial manner they found it hard to live.
After breakfast the girls were leaving the room together, when Miss Heath, the Principal of the Hall in which they resided, came into the room. She was a tall, stately woman of about thirty-five, and had seen very little of Priscilla since her arrival, but now she stopped to give both girls a special greeting. Her manners were very frank and pleasant.
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