“No—­ thank you.  I—­ I can manage.”

“But I’ll come with pleasure if you like me to.”

“No, I’d rather you didn’t trouble, please.”

“Very well; if you’re sure you know the way.  You go down the broad stairs, then turn to the right, then to the left.  Good-by.  I must rush off, or I shall be late.”

Nancy shut the door behind her.  She did it gently, although she did not feel gentle, for she had a distinct sensation of being irritated.

Meanwhile Priscilla, clasping her hands together behind the closed door, looked yearningly in the direction where the bright face and trim, neat girlish figure had stood.  She was trembling slightly and her eyes slowly filled with tears.

“I feel sick and lonely and horrid,” she said under her breath.  “Talk of nerves; oh, if Aunt Raby could see me now!  Why, I’m positively shaking, I can scarcely speak, I can scarcely think properly.  What would the children say if they saw their Prissie now?  And I’m the girl who is to fight the world, and kill the dragon, and make a home for the nestlings.  Don’t I feel like it!  Don’t I look like it!  Don’t I just loathe myself!  How hideously I do my hair, and what a frightful dress I have on.  Oh, I wish I weren’t shaking so much.  I know I shall get red all over at dinner.  I wish I weren’t going to dinner.  I wish, oh, I wish I were at home again.”

Crash! bang! pealed the great gong through the house.  Doors were opened all along the corridor; light steps passed Priscilla’s room.  She heard the rustle of silk and the sweet, high tinkle of girlish laughter.

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.