Little is known of Lady Whistlegold, which is precisely how she prefers it.

She is a keen observer of university life, with a particular fondness for the curious modern customs, small dramas, grand ceremonies, and splendid absurdities that occur whenever several thousand young people are gathered in one place and entrusted with an education.

Her chief amusement is observing the inhabitants.

Students, in particular, provide endless material. They arrive each fall in great numbers, on wheeled conveyances of bizarre design and possessing an extraordinary ability to appear simultaneously exhausted, overconfident, confused, resourceful, late, hungry, and occasionally demonstrating that the phrase common sense remains, regrettably, theoretical when a promising courtship is underway.

Lady Whistlegold is equally fascinated by the adults who inhabit the University, whose committees, meetings, announcements, traditions, ceremonies, proclamations, and occasional displays of institutional theater provide a rich counterpoint to student life.

She has discovered that universities possess an almost supernatural ability to make ordinary things mysterious, simple things complicated, and perfectly good sentences considerably longer than necessary.

She finds this charming.

Her identify, meanwhile, remains strictly confidential. And if you happen to recognize her? Do be a dear and keep it to yourself.