"Thank you," said Priscilla; her teeth were chattering. "If I might
have a fire?" she asked suddenly.

"Oh, you poor, shivering darling! Of course. Are there no matches
here? There were some on the mantel-piece before dinner. No, I declare
they have vanished. How careless of the maid. I'll run into Maggie's
room and fetch some."

Miss Banister was not a minute away. She returned with a box of
matches, and, stooping down, set a light to the wood, and a pleasant
fire was soon blazing and crackling merrily.

"Now, isn't that better?" said Nancy. "Please sit down on your bed and
give me the key of your trunk. I'll soon have the things out and put
all to rights for you. I'm a splendid unpacker."

But Priscilla had no desire to have her small and meager wardrobe
overhauled even by the kindest of St. Benet's girls.

"I will unpack presently myself, if you don't mind," she said. She
felt full of gratitude, but she could not help an almost surly tone
coming into her voice.

Nancy drew back, repulsed and distressed.

"Perhaps you would like me to go away?" she said. "I will go into
Maggie's room and let you know when cocoa is ready."

"Thank you," said Prissie. Miss Banister disappeared, and Priscilla