Maggy sat at her work in her great white cap with its quantity of opaque¹ frilling hiding what profile she had (she had none to spare), and her serviceable eye brought to bear upon her occupation, on the window side of the room. What with her flapping cap, and what with her unserviceable eye, she was quite partitioned off from her Little Mother, whose seat was opposite the window. The tread and shuffle² of feet on the pavement of the yard had much diminished since the taking of the Chair, the tide of Collegians having set strongly in the direction of Harmony. Some few who had no music in their souls, or no money in their pockets, dawdled⁴ about; and the old spectacle of the visitor-wife and the depressed⁵ unseasoned prisoner still lingered in corners, as broken cobwebs and such unsightly discomforts⁶ draggle in corners of other places. It was the quietest time the College knew, saving the night hours when the Collegians took the benefit of the act of sleep. The occasional rattle⁷ of applause upon the tables of the Snuggery, denoted the successful termination of a morsel⁸ of Harmony; or the responsive acceptance, by the united children, of some toast or sentiment offered to them by their Father. Occasionally, a vocal⁹ strain more sonorous¹⁰ than the generality informed the listener that some boastful bass¹¹ was in blue water, or in the hunting field, or with the reindeer¹², or on the mountain, or among the heather; but the Marshal of the Marshalsea knew better, and had got him hard and fast.

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