A vigorous banging of bureau drawers in Priscilla's room was presently followed by Priscilla herself in the doorway. She surveyed her room-mate suspiciously. "Why aren't you dressing?" she demanded. "I'll fasten my own dress; you needn't wait," said Patty, without removing her eyes from the window. "Bishop Copeley's going to preach to-day, and he's such an old dear; you mustn't be late." Patty elevated her chin a trifle and shrugged her shoulders. "Aren't you going to chapel?" Patty brought her gaze back from the window and looked up at Priscilla beseechingly. "It's such a lovely day," she pleaded, "and I'd so much rather spend the time out of doors; I'm sure it would be a lot better for my spiritual welfare." "It's not a question of spiritual welfare; it's a question of cuts. You've already over-cut twice. What excuse do you intend to give when the Self-Government Committee asks for an explanation?" "'Sufficient unto the day,'" laughed Patty. "When the time comes I'll think of a beautiful new excuse that will charm the committee." "You ought to be ashamed to evade the rules the way you do." "Where is the fun of living if you are going to make yourself a slave to all sorts of petty rules?" asked Patty, wearily. "I don't know why you have a right to live outside of rules any more than the rest of us." Patty shrugged. "I take the right, and every one else can do the same." "Every one else can't," returned Priscilla, hotly, "for there wouldn't be any law left in college if they did. I should a good deal rather play out of doors myself than go to chapel, but I've used up all my cuts and I can't. You couldn't either if you had a shred of proper feeling left. The only way you can get out of it is by lying." "Priscilla dear," Patty murmured, "people in polite society don't put things quite so baldly. If you would be respected in the best circles, you must practise the art of equivocation." Priscilla frowned impatiently. "Are you coming, or are you not?" she demanded. "I am not." Priscilla closed the door--not quite as softly as a door should be closed--and Patty was left alone. She sat thinking a few minutes with slightly flushed cheeks, and then as the chapel bell rang she shook herself and laughed. Even had she wished to go it was too late now, and all feeling of responsibility vanished. As soon as the decorous swish of Sunday silks had ceased in the corridor outside, she caught up a book and a cushion, and, creeping down by the side stairs, set gaily out across the sunlit lawn, with the deliciously guilty thrill of a truant little boy who has run away from school.