But even the transparent and insulting manœuvre of appearing to find Mrs. Mulholland’s name beneath her powers of recollection, served Mrs. Severing nothing.
“Not here—not here,” said Mrs. Mulholland rebukefully. “Talking on the stairs is quite against our convent rules, you know. Mère Pauline doesn’t like it at all. One or two of the French girls now, you know—I sometimes find them chattering to one another as they go up or come down—and I always say, ‘Not here, my dears. Not here,’ I say. ‘Talk as much as ever you like in the parlour or the dining-room, but not here. Not on the stairs. Mère Pauline doesn’t like it,’ I say. But of course you’re a stranger here, and can’t be expected to know all our little regulations. That’s why I am making an exception of you. But it doesn’t do if we make a practice of it, or give a bad example.”
Nina was so far from wishing to make a practice of conversing on the stairs with Mrs. Mulholland, that she was goaded into saying faintly:
“Perhaps we could come into one of the parlours for a moment—if you wish to speak to me. I don’t want to break any rules, and if it would annoy Mère Pauline to find anybody talking on the stairs——”
“That’s right, Mrs. Severing, that’s right. Why, you’re quite an example to our younger generation!” was the unfortunate comment selected by Mrs. Mulholland to express her admiration for this docility. “But you’re all right under my wing, you know—Mère Pauline wouldn’t say a word if she found you with me. Now come along into the parlour. I think there’s one vacant.”
Mrs. Mulholland, hurrying downstairs again, consulted her watch.
“Let me see—Office won’t be over for another twenty minutes—we’re safe till then. Mère Pauline is pretty sure to be called to the parlour after that, you know—poor thing, she sometimes hasn’t a minute to call her own all day, and I happen to know she’s very tired just now—very tired indeed. Of course, she never spares herself, and one isn’t supposed to say anything much about it, but I’m a little bit in the know, as they say, and she’s very tired just at present, is Mère Pauline. I wish we could spare her more—but there it is! The life of a religious is a hard one, and this is a strict order, Mrs. Severing, as you may have found out.”
“Indeed?”
“Oh, very strict!” cried Mrs. Mulholland breezily, apparently supposing that Nina’s frozen ejaculation intimated a desire for further information. “A lot of people in the world rather fancy we aren’t so very severe, you know, when they see Mère Pauline and Mother Juliana and all of them so frequently in the parlour—but that’s all part of the spirit of the order. To help those in the world, and bring souls to God, Mrs. Severing.” Mrs. Mulholland’s bass voice thickened a little with earnest feeling, and her rather hard black eyes grew ardent.
“But I mustn’t stay. I haven’t said Office yet. Oh, I always follow the Office, Mrs. Severing, though I generally take my breviaries out into the garden, at midday. Now what was it I wanted to say to you?—oh, about Mother Juliana it was. Nothing very much, you know, but I thought I’d better give you the least little hint.” She lowered her tones mysteriously. “Don’t say anything about Mother Juliana’s having made her Spiritual Reading at a different hour yesterday.”