Miss Rachel Peel was not the least like her niece.  She was short and
rather dumpy.  She had a sensible, downright sort of face, and she took
life with a gravity which would have oppressed a less earnest spirit
than Priscilla's. 

"Well, I'm tired," she said, when the meal was over.  "I suppose I've
done a great deal more than I thought I had all day.  I think I'll go
to bed early.  We have said all our last words, haven't we, Priscilla?" 

"Pretty nearly, Aunt Raby." 

"Oh, yes, that reminds me-- there's one thing more.  Your fees will be
all right, of course, and your traveling, and I have arranged about
your washing money." 

"Yes, Aunt Raby, oh, yes; everything is all right." 

Priscilla fidgeted, moved her position a little and looked longingly
out of the window.