seven o’clock exactly
Beside her two shivering chamber-mates -LRB- `` chamber-dekyns '' they would have been called , in Oxford slang , four hundred years ago -RRB- , Miss Shields looked quite brilliant , warm , and comfortable , even in the eager and the nipping air of Miss Marlett 's shuddering establishment , and by the frosty light of a single candle . This young lady was tall and firmly fashioned ; a nut-brown maid , with a ruddy glow on her cheeks , with glossy hair rolled up in a big tight knot , and with a smile -LRB- which knew when it was well off -RRB- always faithful to her lips . These features , it is superfluous to say in speaking of a heroine , `` were rather too large for regular beauty . '' She was perfectly ready to face the enemy -LRB- in which light she humorously regarded her mistress -RRB- when the loud cracked bell jangled at seven o'clock exactly , and the drowsy girls came trooping from the dormitories down into the wintry class-rooms . Arithmetical diversions , in a cold chamber , were the intellectual treat which awaited Margaret and her companions . Arithmetic and slates ! Does anyone remember -- can anyone forget -- how horribly distasteful a slate can be when the icy fingers of youth have to clasp that cold educational formation -LRB- Silurian , I believe -RRB- , and to fumble with the greasy slate-pencil ?