d except music. Her
gift of singing had brought her to this convent. Was it really so?
Was her gift connected in some obscure way with the moral crisis
which had drawn her into this convent? There seemed to be a
connection, only she did not seem to be able to work it out. But
there must be one surely, otherwise her poor people, whom she loved
so dearly, would not have been abandoned. A very cruel abandonment it
was, and she pondered a long while on this subject without arriving
at any other conclusion except that for her to remain in the convent
to teach music to the children of rich merchants, who had villas in
Wimbledon, was out of the question. Her poor people were calling to
her, and the convent had no further concern in her life. Of that she
was sure. It was no longer the same convent. The original aspiration
had declined; the declension had been from the late Prioress to
Sister Winifred, who, knowing that her own election to Prioress was
impossible, had striven to get Mother Philippa elected Prioress and
herself sub-Prioress--a very clever move on her part, for with Mother
Philippa as Prioress the management of the school would be left to
her, and the school was what interested her. Of course, the money
they made would be devoted to building a chapel, or something of that
kind; but it was the making of money which would henceforth be the
pleasure of the convent. Evelyn took a certain pleasure in listening
negligently to Mother Winifred, who seemed unable to resist the
desire to talk to her about vocations whenever they met. From
whatever point they started, the conversation would soon turn upon a
vocation, and Evelyn found herself in the end listening to a story of
some novice who thought she had no vocation and had left the convent,
but had returned.

"And very often," Mother Winifred would say sententiously, "those who
think themselves most sure of their vocation find themselves without
one."

And Evelyn would answer, "Those who would take the last place are put
up first--isn't that it, Mother Winifred?"

Very often as they walked round the great, red-brick building, with
rows of windows on either side facing each other, so that the sky
could be seen through the building, Evelyn said:

"But do you not regret the trees?" She took pleasure in reminding
every nun that they sacrificed the beauty of the garden in the hope
of making a little money; and these remarks, though they annoyed
Mother Winifred, did not