"Oh, my darling, I am so sorry. I forgot-- I really did! There, you
must try and think it was any room. What she did was all the same.
Well, those girls had been twitting her. I expect she's had a nice
fortnight of it! She turned very white, and at last her blood was up,
and she just gave it to them. She opened her little trunk. I really
could have cried. It was such a poor, pathetic sort of receptacle to
be capable of holding all one's worldly goods, and she showed it to
them-- empty! 'You see,' she said, 'that I have no pictures nor
ornaments here!' Then she turned the contents of her purse into her
hand. I think, Maggie, she had about thirty shillings in the world,
and she asked Lucy Marsh to count her money, and inquired how many
things she thought it would purchase at Spilman's. Then, Maggie,
Priscilla turned on them. Oh, she did not look plain then, nor awkward
either. Her eyes had such a splendid good, brave sort of light in
them. And she said she had come here to work, and she meant to work,
and her room must stay bare, for she had no money to make it anything
else. 'But,' she said, 'I am not afraid of you, but I am afraid of
hurting those'-- whoever 'those' are-- 'those'-- oh, with such a ring
on the word-- 'who have sent me here!'

"After that the two girls skedaddled; they had had enough of her, and
I expect, Maggie, your little Puritan Prissie will be left in peace in
the future."

"Don't call her my little Puritan," said Maggie. "I have nothing to
say to her."

Maggie was leaning back again in her chair now; her face was still
pale and her soft eyes looked troubled.