to do very well here. What do you mean to take up?"

"Oh, everything. I can't know too much."

Miss Heath laughed and looked at Maggie. Maggie was lying back in her
easy-chair, her head resting luxuriously against a dark velvet
cushion. She was tapping the floor slightly with her small foot; her
eyes were fixed on Prissie. When Miss Heath laughed Maggie echoed the
sound, but both laughs were in the sweetest sympathy.

"You must not overwork yourself, my dear," said Miss Heath. "That
would be a very false beginning. I think-- I am sure-- that you have
an earnest and ardent nature, but you must avoid an extreme which will
only end in disaster."

Prissie frowned.

"What do you mean?" she said. "I have come here to study. It has been
done with such, such difficulty. It would be cruel to waste a moment.
I mustn't; it wouldn't be right. You can't mean what you say."

Miss Heath was silent. She thought it kinder to look away from
Prissie. After a moment she said in a voice which she on purpose made
intensely quiet and matter of fact:

"Many girls come to St. Benet's, Miss Peel, who are, I fancy,
circumstanced like you. Their friends find it difficult to send them
here, but they make the sacrifice, sometimes in one way, sometimes in
another-- and the girls come. They know it is their duty to study;
they have an ulterior motive, which underlies everything else. They