bed.

"How do you do, Miss Atkins? How do you do, Miss Jones?"

Miss Jones and Miss Atkins exchanged kisses with Miss Phillips, Miss
Marsh and Miss Day. The babel of tongues rose high, and every one had
something to say with regard to the room which had been assigned to
Priscilla.

"Look," said Miss Day, "it was in that corner she had her
rocking-chair. Girls, do you remember Annabel's rocking-chair, and how
she used to sway herself backward and forward in it and half-shut her
lovely eyes?"

"Oh, and don't I just seem to see that little red tea-table of hers
near the fire," burst from Miss Marsh. "That Japanese table, with the
Japanese tea-set-- oh dear, oh dear! those cups of tea-- those cakes!
Well, the room was luxurious, was worth coming to see in Annabel's
time."

"It's more than it is now," laughed Miss Jones in a harsh voice. "How
bare the walls look without her pictures. It was in that recess the
large figure of Hope by Burne-Jones used to hang, and there, that
queer, wild, wonderful head looking out of clouds. You know she never
would tell us the artist's name. Yes, she had pretty things
everywhere! How the room is altered! I don't think I care for it a bit
now."

"Could any one who knew Annabel Lee care for the room without her?"
asked one of the girls. She had a common, not to say vulgar, face, but