ing here more than two years; but that
is not the question. However, I must be going," she added, "I
have a hundred things to do before vespers. And the border for
that altar-cloth will be ready by the end of the month, you
think?"

"I hope so," answered Soeur Lucie. "Madelon shall help me as
soon as she is strong enough again; she can embroider quite
nicely now."

"So much the better; she will have to do plenty by-and-by, and
make herself useful if she is to stay here."

Soeur Ursule left the room as she spoke, and Soeur Lucie, with
her knitting in her lap, sat meditating in the darkness.
Presently a restless movement in the bed roused her. "Are you
awake, Madelon?" she said softly.

No answer, only another toss, and a sort of long sigh. Soeur
Lucie rose, lighted a candle, measured out some medicine, and
then with the glass in one hand, and the light in the other,
she came to the bedside. Madelon was lying with her back
towards her, her arms flung over her head, her face buried in
the pillow. She did not move, and Soeur Lucie touched her
gently.

"It is time to take your medicine, mon enfant," she said.

Madelon turned round then, and taking the glass, drank off the
contents without a word; as she gave it back to the nun,
something in her face or expression, fairly startled the
little sister.

"Why, whatever is the matter, _mon enfant?_" she cried, "you
must have been dreaming, I think."

"No, I have not been dreaming," answered Madelon; and then, as
the nun turned away to put the glass and candle on the table,
she caught hold of her gown with all the strength of which her
feeble fingers were capable.

"Don't go, please don't go, Soeur Lucie," she said, "I want to
speak to you."

"In a moment; I am not going," answered the sister. "Well,
what is it, _ma petite?_" she added, coming back to the bedside.

"What--what was it Soeur Ursule was saying to you just now?"
asks Madelon.

"Just now!" cried Soeur Lucie, taken aback; "why, I thought you
were asleep."

"No, I was not asleep," Madelon answered, "I only had my eyes
shut."

"But that is very naughty, _mon enfant_, to pretend to be asleep
when you are awake."

"I didn't pretend," said Madelon aggrieved, "only I hadn't
opened my eyes, and I could not help hearing what you said."

"Ah well, if you heard, there is no use in my telling you,"
says Soeur Lucie, who was not at all above using that
imperfect, but irrefragable, logic familiar to us from