"No."

"Then you have something to live for. Orchids are ordinary flowers
spiritualized. They have a glamor over them. We have good orchid shows
sometimes at Kingsdene. I will take you to the next."

The servant brought in tea, and Miss Heath placed Prissie in a
comfortable chair, where she was neither oppressed by lamplight nor
firelight.

"A shy little soul like this will love the shade," she said to
herself. "For all her plainness this is no ordinary girl, and I mean
to draw her out presently. What a brow she has, and what a light came
into her eyes when she looked at my white chrysanthemum."

There came a tap at the door, and Maggie Oliphant entered, looking
fresh and bright. She gave Prissie an affectionate glance and nod and
then began to busy herself, helping Miss Heath with the tea. During
the meal a little pleasant murmur of conversation was kept up. Miss
Heath and Maggie exchanged ideas. They even entered upon one or two
delicate little skirmishes, each cleverly arguing a slight point on
which they appeared to differ. Maggie could make smart repartees, and
Miss Heath could parry her graceful young adversary's home thrusts
with excellent effect.

They talked of one or two books which were then under discussion; they
said a little about music and a word or two with regard to the
pictures which were just then causing talk among the art critics in
London. It was all new to Prissie, this "light, airy, nothing" kind of
talk. It was not study; could it be classed under the head of