spectacles, and said gently: "Come nearer, dear
Sister; I was expecting you." She drew up a chair, but Carmen put it
aside, and kneeling by Sister Agatha's side, said:

"No, Sister, let me remain here and hear what you have to say, for you
are going to chide me--I am sure of it."

"Carmen, do you believe I love you?" she inquired.

"Surely," answered the girl, quickly. "More than any one else here."

"Then you know that my heart grieves when I cannot feel satisfied with
you," continued the Sister. "Why are your thoughts constantly dwelling
on worldly things, and why do you allow yourself to be overcome with
pride, instead of putting your mind on serious matters, and being more
humble?"

"You are angry with me, Sister Agatha, because I did not tell from what
distant land I came. That is not such a dreadful crime," said Carmen,
cheerfully.

The serious countenance of the Sister grew yet more grave, and she
looked severely at the kneeling figure.

"Have you, then, not thought of the text for to-day?" she asked
reprovingly,

Carmen flushed up quickly; she tried to compose herself, but was for a
moment at a loss what to say. She had during the past day been through
such new experiences; whereas, heretofore, every day had been pretty
much the same.

Sister Agatha waited patiently for Carmen to become calmer. At last,
when she seemed to have forgotten her confusion about the text, Agatha
said: "Now tell me the watchword."

When the maiden's eyes turned to the usual place for the motto, her
thoughts seemed to cease wandering, and she repeated the verse
correctly:

"'Feed Thou Thy people with Thy staff.'"

"Remember, my Sister, the purport of those words. 'Thy people' are
those who belong to Him; 'with Thy staff' means, with the support of
His strength. Carmen, how can the Lord guide you with His staff, if
you do not bow your will before Him, and try to curb your pride?"

Carmen, as she knelt, had rested her elbows on Sister Agatha's lap, and
thus supported her head on her hands, while she gazed into the
speaker's face, thinking earnestly of what she said.

"Do you call it pride, and are you vexed with me because I would not
tell to strangers what was indifferent, or perhaps amusing, to them?
Oh, Sister Agatha, is it necessary that we expose ourselves to the
derision of the world? We do not serve God by doing that. And when
you speak of pride, is it not that very feeling which leads you to
boast of o