ld be making elephants than dreaming of
counterparts."

XXXIV

The creation of the beast was accomplished in the novitiate, no one
being allowed to see it except the Prioress. The great difficulty was
to find beads large enough for the eyes, and it threatened to
frustrate the making of their beast. But the latest postulant
suggested that perhaps the buttons off her jacket would do, they were
just the thing,' and the legs of the beast were most natural and
life-like; it had even a tail.

As no one out of the novitiate had seen this very fine beast, the
convent was on tip-toe with excitement, and when, at the conclusion
of dinner, the elephant was wheeled into the refectory, every one
clapped her hands, and there were screams of delight. Then the saddle
was brought in and attached by blue ribbons. Sister Bridget, who did
not seem quite sure that the elephant was not alive, was lifted on it
and held there; and was wheeled round the refectory in triumph, the
novices screaming with delight, the professed, too. Only Evelyn stood
silent and apart, sorry she could not mix with the others, sharing
their pleasures. To stand watching them she felt to be unkind, so she
went into the garden, and wandered to the sundial, whence she could
see Richmond Park; and looking into the distance, hearing the
childish gaiety of the nuns, she remembered Louise's party at the
Savoy Hotel years and years ago. The convent had ceased to have any
meaning for her; so she must return, but not to the mummers, they,
too, had faded out of her life. She did not know whither she was
going, only that she must wander on... as soon as the Prioress died.
The thought caused her to shudder, and, remembering that the old
woman was alone in her room, she went up to ask her if she would care
to come into the garden with her. The Prioress was too weak to leave
her room, but she was glad to have Evelyn, and to listen to her
telling of the great success of the elephant.

"Of course, my dear, the recreations here must seem to you very
childish. I wonder what your life will be when I'm gone?"

"To-morrow you will be stronger, and will be able to come into the
garden."

But the old nun never left her room again, and Evelyn's last memory
of her in the garden was when they had sat by the fish-pond, looking
into the still water, reflecting sky and trees, with a great carp
moving mysteriously through a dim world of water-weed and flower.
There were many other mem