She stayed in her room till the last footsteps had died away, then in
desperation made a rush for it, flew down the wide stairs in a bashful
agony, and, as a matter of course, entered the spacious dining-hall by
the door devoted to the dons.

A girl's life at one of the women's colleges is supposed to be more or
less an unfettered sort of existence. The broad rules guiding conduct
are few and little more than those which must be exercised in any
well-organized family. But there is the unspoken etiquette made
chiefly by the students themselves, which fills the place like an
atmosphere, and which can only be transgressed at the risk of surly
glances and muttered comments and even words of derision.

No student was expected to enter the hall by the dons' entrance, and
for this enormity to be perpetrated by a fresher immediately made her
the cynosure of all eyes. Poor Priscilla was unconscious of any
offense. She grew scarlet under the gaze of the merciless young eyes
and further added to her sins by sitting down at one of the tables at
the top of the hall.

No one reproved her in words or requested her to take a lower seat,
but some rude giggles were not inaudible; and Priscilla, who would
thankfully have taken her dinner in the scullery, heard hints about a
certain young person's presumption, and about the cheek of those
wretched freshers, which must instantly be put down with a high hand.

Priscilla had choked over her soup, and was making poor way with the
fish that followed, when suddenly a sweet, low voice addressed her.