t cake we have ever had in the convent." Sister
Angela spoke very demurely, for she was thinking of the portion of
the cake that would come to her, and there was a little gluttony in
her voice as she spoke of the almond paste it would have upon it.

"It is indeed a pity," said Sister Jerome, "that Sister Teresa's
clothing takes place so early in the year."

"How so, Sister Jerome?" Evelyn asked incautiously.

"Because if it had been a little later, or if Monsignor had not been
delayed in Rome--I only thought," she added, stopping short, "that
you would like Monsignor to give you the white veil--it would be
nicer for you; or if the Bishop gave it," she added, "or Father
Ambrose. I am sure Sister Veronica never would have been a nun at all
if Father Ambrose had not professed her. Father Daly is such a little
frump."

"That will do, children; I cannot really allow our chaplain to be
spoken of in that manner." And Mother Hilda looked at Evelyn,
thinking, "Well, the Prioress has had her way with her."

The recreation-bell rang, and the novices clattered down the stairs
of the novitiate, their childish eagerness rousing Evelyn from the
mild stupor which still seemed to hang about her mind; and she smiled
at the novices and at herself, for suddenly it had all begun to seem
to her like a scene in a play, herself going to take the white veil
and to become a nun, at all events, for a while. "Now, how is all
this to end?" she asked herself. "But what does it matter?" Clouds
seemed to envelop her mind again, and she acquiesced when the
Prioress said:

"I think your retreat had better begin to-day."

"When, Mother?"

"Well, from this moment."

"If Teresa will come into the garden with me," said Mother Hilda.

It was impossible for the Prioress to say no, and a slaty blush of
anger came into her cheek. "Hilda will do all she can to prevent
her." Nor was the Prioress wholly wrong in her surmise, for they had
not walked very far before Evelyn admitted that the idea of the white
veil frightened her a great deal.

"Frightens you, my dear child?"

"But if I had a vocation I should not feel frightened. Isn't that so,
Mother Hilda?"

"I shouldn't like to say that, Teresa. One can feel frightened and
yet desire a thing very much; desire and fear are not incompatible."

Tears glistened in her eyes, and she appealed to Mother Hilda,
saying:

"Dear Mother, I don't know why I am crying, but I am very unhappy.
There is no rea