eople was there, and the
prince and Evangeline, who had changed her white dress for a dark one,
came out, and everyone seemed to want to kiss her. Some laughed and some
cried, and Mary felt inclined to do both at once.

'Isn't she going to say good-bye to us?' cried Mary, as Evangeline
stepped into the carriage and sat down. But Sister Agatha did not seem
to hear her. The prince also got into the carriage and took the reins,
then the ponies started and everybody began to cry, 'Hip, hip, hurrah!'
Mary saw Sister Agatha take something white from under her cloak and
throw it after the carriage. It looked like a slipper, only she could
not imagine why Sister Agatha should throw a slipper at Evangeline; it
hit her too!

'Why did you do that?' asked Mary.

'That,' said Sister Agatha in a curious voice. 'Oh! that is for luck:
God bless her.'

When the slipper fell into the carriage striking Evangeline's knees, she
looked round to see where it came from, and noticing Sister Agatha she
spoke to the prince, who laughed and stopped the ponies. Then Sister
Agatha took Mary's hand and ran to the carriage. Evangeline leaned
forward to kiss her and then she stooped to kiss Mary as well.

'I'm glad she said good-bye,' whispered Mary as the four cream-coloured
ponies started again, but Sister Agatha did not speak until after they
were indoors. 'Shan't I ever see her again?' asked Mary, as they entered
their own room.

'Never is a long day, you know, Sister Agatha answered; 'but certainly
neither of us will see her for many, many years.'

When Mary had taken off her hat she went downstairs to tea, and during
the meal she could talk about nothing but Evangeline and the wedding.
But when she had finished and the tea-things had been removed, she
brought her stool to Sister Agatha's side and looked up a little
wistfully into her face; she felt she had nobody but Sister Agatha now.

'Please tell me the end of the story about Lucy,' she said.

'To begin with,' answered Sister Agatha, 'I think Evangeline made a
little mistake. I don't fancy the little girl's name was Lucy after all.
I think it must have been Mary.'

'Was it Mary Brown?' asked Mary, with her eyes very widely open.

'Yes,' said Sister Agatha.

'I--I wondered whether it was,' said Mary solemnly.

'And,' Sister Agatha continued, 'I rather think that Sister Benevolence
should have been called Sister Agatha, although it isn't nearly such a
nice name.'

'I thought it