The duty-teacher's eye is on the doors. Unlike some of the others, his foot had never been known to bang down, and his voice never to bark out across the hall when the students, in a hurry to get inside, push forwards those in front and smack their winter hands together. Having already got up once, the boy nearest the last door (always the worst seat to get) shoots his shoulders back at the door-rattle of a last straggler then unlocks it to let him in with a menacing stare. The duty-teacher rings a small silver bell to gain silence. Those other teachers quite often take their time and are sticklers for complete quiet; but not this one - he sweeps the room with his gaze, lowering heads in a great arc before he lowers his own and utters a grace.
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To prevent her fellow diners from seeing into herself (but in particular, the boys) each girl at the table conceals her mouth. Mindful of the others yet unready to let her efforts appear too extravagant and her mannerisms too ridiculous, a girl might sink her chin into her chest and move only her upper jaw; another might turn sideways yet try to appear not to do so; and others still, might hold a hand up some inches from their faces, its fingers closed, while feeding their mouths from a hidden fork.
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A passing girl, coursing along an aisle between the tables, springs from the hubbub and calls out "Bridget!" something which jolts the table's usual uneven silence. She then drops on her haunches to exchange a few words with the table-monitor, who will later reject the hopeless advances of one of the boys who even now, at the early stages of their acquaintance, is stricken by the only love in his life that he could possibly have enjoyed. Meanwhile another of the boys, born with a long head and thus resembling a medicine-bottle when stood up, has his eye on a surplus of potatoes (perhaps an extra half a meal is lying there) which is being passed round in the steel serving tray. He follows it round the table, leaving his own meal untouched for the moment, until it returns to the table-monitor (thus declaring itself unwanted) addresses her with half-lifting movements of his forearms and is quickly handed his prize. The table finishes first. Ready to leave the hall, yet unable to make the first move, its sitters swivel their bodies amid the surrounding noise which already buffets them this way and that. Some of them make little getting-ups, gripping hold of their chair-seats with both hands to prevent them falling backwards. Finally from a place near to one of the many exits, a lean boy rises and leaves, is seen by some of the table though not by the monitor which is not important for there is no rule that she must release them first, and soon the awkward space is emptied, each sitter making, a little hurriedly, for a separate exit.
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