“Sœur Aimé, ma Mère! We have no one of that name.”

“‘Innocente’ would suit her, I think,” said the American.

“Is it a double name, ma Mère?”

“Yes.”

“Ah, then one of them is Mary!”

Mère Thérèse nodded.

“Mary Emmanuel!”

“Elizabeth Mary.”

The old nun shook her head, still laughing heartily.

“Lolita Maria,” exclaimed the little Spanish novice of eighteen who was Frances’ neighbour in the chapel, selecting the names she thought the prettiest.