“You look so tired. Do lie down and let me unpack for you.”
“Darling child!” cried Nina, sinking on to the bed, “I shouldn’t dream of letting you do such a thing. Why should you? Oh, don’t pull at the straps like that, dearest. My keys are in that little bag there.”
Frances unpacked.
Towards the close of this operation there was a knock at the door, and a smiling old lay-sister remarked triumphantly:
“Mère Pauline is waiting to see you in the little parlour downstairs, dear. Come along.”
Nina rose with languid grace.
“No, no, dear,” said the lay-sister, still smiling. “It’s this child.” She laid her hand on Frances’ arm. “You’re the little one that’s to be received into Holy Church after Easter, aren’t you?”
“I hope so,” stammered Frances.
“Come along, dear, then. I dare say,” she added consolingly over her shoulder to Nina, “that Mère Pauline will be able to spare you a little while of her time during the Retreat, you know.”
The outraged Mrs. Severing was left to her own reflections for the next two hours.