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

“This is your first evening at St. Benet’s,” said the voice.  “I hope you will be happy.  I know you will, after a little.”

Priscilla turned and met the full gaze of lovely eyes, brown like a nut, soft and deep as the thick pile of velvet, and yet with a latent flash and glow in them which gave them a red, half-wild gleam now and then.  The lips that belonged to this face were slightly parted in a smile; the smile and the expression in the eyes stole straight down with a glow of delicious comfort into Priscilla’s heart.

“Thank you,” she said in her stiff, wooden tone; but her eyes did not look stiff, and the girl began to talk again.

“I believe my room is next to yours.  My name is Oliphant—­ Margaret Oliphant, but every one calls me Maggie.  That is, of course, I mean my friends do.  Would you like to come into my room and let me tell you some of the rules?”

“Thank you,” said Priscilla again.  She longed to add, “I should love beyond words to come into your room”; but instead she remarked icily, “I think Miss Heath has given me printed rules.”

“Oh, you have seen our dear Dorothea—­ I mean Miss Heath.  Isn’t she lovely?”

“I don’t know,” answered Priscilla.  “I think she’s rather a plain person.”

“My dear Miss”—­ I have not caught your name—­ “you really are too deliciously prosaic.  Stay here for a month, and then tell me if you think Dorothea—­ I mean Miss Heath—­ plain.  No, I won’t say any more.  You must find out for yourself.  But now, about the rules.  I don’t mean the printed rules.  We have, I assure you, at St. Benet’s all kinds of little etiquettes which we expect each other to observe.  We are supposed to be democratic and inclined to go in for all that is advanced in womanhood.  But, oh dear, oh dear! let any student dare to break one of our own little pet proprieties, and you will see how conservative we can be.”

“Have I broken any of them?” asked Priscilla in alarm.  “I did notice that every one stared at me when I came into the hall, but I thought it was because my face was fresh, and I hoped people would get accustomed to me by and by.”

“You poor, dear child, there are lots of fresh faces here besides yours.  You should have come down under the shelter of my wing, then it would have been all right.”

“But what have I done?  Do tell me.  I’d much rather know.”

“Well, dear, you have only come into the hall by the dons’ entrance, and you have only seated yourself at the top of the table, where the learned students who are going in for a tripos take their august meals.  That is pretty good for a fresher.  Forgive me, we call the new girls freshers for a week or two.  Oh, you have done nothing wrong.  Of course not, how could you know any better?  Only I think it would be nice to put you up to our little rules, would it not?”