ose who went
to Palestine to fight for the Holy Sepulchre, why should you
repudiate mine?"

"But I haven't said a word; indeed--"

"But you will talk to me about it, won't you? For I must have your
opinion before I go, Monsignor."

"Well, now I think I shall disappear," said Sister Mary John. "I'm
going to feed the birds."

"But you asked me to go with you."

"That was before Monsignor came. But perhaps he would like to come
with us. The garden is beautiful and white, and all the birds are
waiting for me, poor darlings!"

The nuns, Evelyn and Monsignor went down the steps.

"There is a great deal of snow in the sky yet," said Sister Mary
John, pointing to the yellow horizon. "To-night or to-morrow it will
fall, and the birds will die, if we don't feed them."

A flock of speckled starlings flew into a tree, not recognising
Evelyn and Monsignor, but the blackbirds and thrushes were tamer and
ran in front, watching the visitors with round, thoughtful eyes, the
beautiful shape of the blackbird showing against the white
background, and everybody admiring his golden bill and legs. The
sparrows flew about Sister Mary John in a little cloud, until they
were driven away by three great gulls come up from the Thames, driven
inland by hard weather. A battle began, the gulls pecking at each
other, wasting time in fighting instead of sharing the bread, only
stopping now and then to chase away the arrogant sparrows. The
robin, the wisest bird, came to Sister Mary John's hand for his
food, preferring the buttered bread to the dry. There were rooks in
the grey sky, and very soon two hovered over the garden, eventually
descending into the garden with wings slanted, and then the seagulls
had to leave off fighting or go without food altogether. A great
strange bird rose out of the bushes, and flew away in slow, heavy
flight. Monsignor thought it was a woodcock; and there were birds
whose names no one knew, migrating birds come from thousands of
miles, from regions where the snow lies for months upon the ground;
and Evelyn and the prelate and the nuns watched them all until the
frosty air reminded the prelate that loitering was dangerous. Sister
Mary John walked on ahead, feeding the birds, forgetful of Monsignor
and Evelyn; a nun saying her rosary stopped to speak to the
Prioress; Evelyn and Monsignor went on alone, and when they came
towards St. Peter's Walk no one was there, and the moment had come,
Evelyn felt, to speak of h