Here and there, in a niche, was a complete skeleton, in a mouldering robe so old that it scarce hung together. Sometimes these skeleton monks reclined in a recess lined with skulls and bones.
It was all most curious, and though somewhat gruesome, Patty was fascinated at the strange sight.
“Ask him if he likes it,” she said to Peter, and when asked, he answered at great length, and very earnestly.
“What does he say?” asked Patty, impatiently.
“He declares,” said Peter, “that to be used in this decorative way is the greatest honour a Capuchin monk can have. To gain it, a monk must have been in the monastery for twenty-five years, and he’s awfully afraid he’ll die before he earns his right to be a fresco.”
“Ugh!” said Milly, with a shiver, “I hate it! Let’s go out into the sunlight.”
So Milly and Violet, with one or two of the others, went on out of the crypts, but Patty lingered to see a little more of the strange cemetery.
“I suppose the whole gentlemen are more honoured than the dissected ones,” she said.
“Yes,” said Floyd, “and they seem all broken up about it!”
“Don’t jest,” said Patty. “I think it’s very impressive and interesting. Oh, look at that lamp!”