ld not wonder if she let me go. I do not know why it is, but for
all her rough manner and sharp words, I can ask a favour of Mother
Gaillarde easier than of Mother Ada. There seems to be nothing in
Mother Ada to get hold of; it is like trying to grip a lump of ice.
Mother Gaillarde is like a nut with a rough outside burr; there is
plenty to lay hold of, though as likely as not you get pricked when you
try. And if she is rough when you ask her anything, yet she often gives
it, after all.

I have not exchanged a word with Margaret since that night when we
watched together. She sits on the other side of the work-room, and even
in the recreation-room she rather avoids coming near me, or I fancy so.

Whatever I begin with, I always get back to Margaret. Such strange
ideas she has! I keep thinking of things that I wish I had said to her
or asked her, and now I have lost the opportunity. I thought of it this
morning, when the two Mothers were conversing with Sister Ismania about
the Christmas decorations in our own little oratory. Sister Ismania is
the eldest of all our Sisters.

"I thought," said she, "if it were approved, I could mould a little
waxen image of our Lord for the altar, and wreathe it round with
evergreens."

"As an infant?" asked Mother Gaillarde.

"Well--yes," said Sister Ismania; but I could see that had not been her
idea.

"Oh, of course!" answered Mother Ada. "It would be most highly
indecorous for _us_ to see Him as a man."

Was it my fancy, or did I see a little curl of Margaret's lips?

"He will be a man at the second advent, I suppose," observed Mother
Gaillarde.

Mother Ada did not answer: but she looked rather scandalised.

"And must we not have some angels?" said Sister Ismania.

"There are the angels we had for Easter, Sister," suggested Sister
Roberga.

"Sister Roberga, oblige me by speaking when you are spoken to," said
Mother Ada, in her icicle manner.

"There is only one will do again," answered Mother Gaillarde. "Saint
Raphael is tolerable; he might serve. But I know the Archangel Michael
had one of his wings broken; and the Apostle Saint Peter lost a leg."

"We had a lovely Satan among those Easter figures," said Sister Ismania;
"and Saint John was so charming, I never saw his equal."

"Satan may do again if he gets a new tail," said Mother Gaillarde. "But
Pontius Pilate won't; that careless Sister Jacoba let him drop, and he
was mashed all to pieces."

"Your p