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 sympathize 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 leaned 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.